Perchance to Dream
by Lilliput
Summary: The Cullens leave Forks after Edward encounters Bella, but he never forgets her. Meanwhile, Bella has vivid dreams about a man whose face she cannot see. Does destiny have something in store for them? AU, OOC. Co-written by Fantasy Mother and Lilliput.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter One

_**March 2003**_

BPOV

_The forest was deathly quiet as I tore through the underbrush – the only sound was the soft padding of my feet as I moved effortlessly around the obstacles in the primeval woods. The air whooshed in and out of my lungs as I ran along the thickly carpeted forest floor, smells drawn deep within me as I discerned each scent with barely a thought. Rabbits, mice, millions of insects, pollen, mold, the smell of a drop of rain as it hit the ground in front of me before shattering to a million crystalline drops of water. I ran through each diamond, feeling them hit my legs as I plunged through the forest, seeking the muskier scent, the pounding heart, the rush of blood through veins drawing me closer and closer to its sweet bliss. Heat scorching my throat as I drew closer, the sweet relief so close as I bunched my legs underneath me and drove myself into the air and_

My eyes flew open, gasping for breath, holding my neck, feeling the primal growl try to tear through my mouth as I scrunched my eyes closed and bit my lips to stop my screams of rapture.

What was that? What the hell kind of dream was that? Holy crow, is this part of what living in Forks is going to be like?

I sat up quickly, reached up and scrubbed my face with my hands, trying to remove the remnants of the dream. It was just so real! Or maybe surreal would be a better word for it. I could smell it, feel it, taste it. What kind of screwed up subconscious thing was trying to show itself?

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, taking deep breaths to try to quiet my pounding heart. A glance at the clock showed an hour before school started. My new school. My first day. "Welcome to Forks, Bella," I mumbled to myself. "A good night's sleep might have gone a long way," I growled as I grabbed my stuff and padded off to the bathroom to get ready for purgatory, firmly putting that bizarre dream behind me.

As I drifted down my dark, narrow staircase I tried not to think about the light and heat and dryness of the home I left behind just a few days ago. I loved the arid smell of the desert, the sun on my skin, the soft earth tones of the distant mountains that called to me each morning as I walked out my door. But Renee had remarried, and the last thing a new bride needed was the kid who wandered through life in a haze of literature and school work. I finally decided I cramped her style. Time to spend some time with Charlie. It would help her, it wouldn't harm me – I could bury myself in a new corner in a new school, I can dream in a book in a new corner in a new home. No real sacrifice. Ultimately, one was the same as the other. Ultimately, my life was me, and no one or nothing else.

Thankful that Charlie had taken care of registration, I grabbed my schedule and the school map and headed out the door into the ever-present rain of this god-awful place. Everything smelled wet, musty – it actually smelled _green! _Shaking my head I trudged to the old red pickup truck Charlie managed to get for me, wrestled the heavy door open, scrambled inside and set off towards the school.

Two more years and I'm out of this place. I can do it.

The good news was, one school is like another. The trick is to avoid eye contact. Look around, look through, look at the floor, show no interest. Blank stares and walking past and finding corners where ever you go. It usually works, although sometimes a bit of drool helps get rid of the persistent. Giggling to myself, I grabbed my latest novel and wandered into the farthest corner of the cafeteria, found an old and inconspicuous table, set myself down, grabbed my sandwich, opened my book and let myself wander away.

And that's when I felt it. A prickling on the back of my neck, a slight increase in my heartbeat, the sense of being stared at so intently it burned. I carefully looked up and was staring right into the eyes of the strangest looking boy I'd ever seen. Soft and unruly bronze hair, skin even paler than my own, features that screamed male and more sculpted than you'd ever see among high school boys. Heavy brows hiding eyes that stared, unblinking, as he ignored the others sitting at his table. Stared at me. Wouldn't stop staring at me.

So I did what I do best – I looked back down at my book and willed myself to be invisible. But this time it was different. This time I could feel heat in my face and my heart pounding in my ears and I hated it. Hiding behind my hair I glanced up and breathed a soft sigh of relief. Head down, reading his book, ignoring the world and thankfully, me. Life goes on as it always did.

But it didn't. I read the same paragraph for the next 45 minutes, mind racing, thinking how out of place he looked and to be honest, how out of place the others at his table looked. Another quick glance through the curtain of my hair and I could see two other boys and two girls, all with the same pale skin, all with the same sculpted beauty, all seeming just a bit too old to be here but at the same time, not too old. It was if they were adults acting as children in a play, makeup just right and mannerisms designed to take years off them. But if you got close enough to see past the stage lighting you'd see them for what they are – not what they appear to be.

"Jesus Bella, get a grip," I quietly scolded myself as I gathered up my books for my trek to my next class. Last night's dream must have affected me more than I realized. Tackling the fantasy genre to move myself out of the literary classics must have sent my imagination into overdrive – first the dream and now this. Plots in every corner. If I didn't pull myself together I'd be wearing a tin foil helmet and screaming about the aliens in the raindrops.

Hugging the walls, making myself small, eyes cast downward I made my way out of the cafeteria and towards my next class, biology. I wanted to learn my routes around school one careful step at a time so that I could navigate without ever having to look up. I quietly walked into the classroom, grabbed my book from the teacher - trying not to make eye contact - and slinked to an open seat in a dark corner. I always take back corners in classrooms. No one could look at me without being obvious, but I could observe them all I liked. That's when I saw him walk in.

The bronze-haired guy came through the door and headed towards a seat in the middle of the class, ignoring everyone as well as I do. I had to admire him, he did it with style, as if he'd had decades of experience. I should watch his moves carefully and learn from him. He didn't look angry but gave off an air that kept eyes away, bodies slanting slightly away as he walked by. Damn this guy is good at it. Definitely need to observe and learn.

The class was as boring as all high school classes are. If I was allowed to start college tomorrow I'd do it. When you live with only yourself there's ample time to move ahead, read the textbooks to the end, try to take peeks at advanced books, round it out a bit with time on the net. It kept me sane in the days outside the classroom. In the days inside the classroom what kept me sane was a well-placed novel folded inside a textbook as I sat in my dark corners. It worked.

And that's when I felt it again, the prickling on the back of my neck and the sudden racing of my heart. I glanced up and he was staring at me, twisted around in his chair, back stick straight, hands clenched, lips pulled into a thin line and if possible, his features looking even more sculpted than they did before, but this time in fury. His nostrils were flaring and for the first time in my 17 years I felt the adrenaline rush of pure terror wash through me. I could feel my pulse in my eardrums…I had never felt fear like this. I tore my eyes away from his, pulled my hair forward, hid my face and tried to control my trembling.

Just as I was starting to hyperventilate the bell rang and he raced out of the classroom. I stumbled out of my seat, and a quick glance out the window showed him running across the parking lot at almost inhuman speed. I'd never seen anyone run so fast. He jumped into a silver Volvo with dark tinted windows, and in no time at all rubber was burning and he was gone.

Truly gone. I never saw him at school again. A week later, the others from his table were gone. I overheard someone say they had moved away. I never even learned their names.

Not that it really mattered, right?

**Lilliput's Playlist A/N:**

**This story is co-written by Fantasy Mother and Lilliput. I (Lilliput) have created a playlist for the story. For each chapter, there will be at least one song, and the playlist will be updated at the same time each new chapter is posted. **

**Songs for Chapter 1**

1. Dreaming by BT. For Bella's first vivid dream.

2. Ugly by Juliana Hatfield. Because Bella feels self-conscious.

**The playlist is linked in my profile and can be found at the following url: **

**www[dot]playlist[dot]com/playlist/16715134219**

**Please review, and thank you for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 2

_**March 2003**_

EPOV

Who was she?

She was like a blank spot in the corner of the cafeteria, an illustration, an animation brought to life without a mind and waiting for an actor to say her lines because there was no sense of thought around her – no images or humming or even the fleeting images of sleep. Nothing. Nothing at all. If I stared long enough would I hear it? If I focused every aspect of my mind would it break free, rushing in like a wave?

Suddenly she looked up and I realized I was wrong. She wasn't a blank spot, she was a black hole drawing me in, drawing everything in this god-forsaken place into her eyes, her face. Wide eyes the color of melted chocolate swirling within the confines of dark thick lashes, alabaster skin with the blush of rose as her blood rose to the surface, a small nose lightly sprinkled with freckles, full red lips all set within a heart-shaped face framed by rich brown hair cascading down across that beautiful long neck and over her graceful shoulders, falling in tendrils towards her waist like a goddess from Greek mythology. A black hole that had a gravitational force that pulled me towards her and let nothing back out, caught in her event horizon and if I let myself maybe I'd slip past the horizon and just fall into her and maybe then, just maybe, I'd hear the lovely tinkling of thoughts hidden behind those expressive wide eyes and I knew all would be fine in the world as I brought my hand to her soft cheek and...

_Whoa, what's wrong with me?_ I wrenched my eyes away from her and glanced at my siblings who thankfully were doing what they do best – ignoring me. Looking back down at my book it took everything I had to keep from trembling as I tried to process what just happened to me. My body was tingling, feeling alive when it shouldn't, feeling something I'd never felt before and that was not how it was supposed to work after 108 years of both kinds of life. I closed my eyes and took calming breaths, in and out. This was all just an aberration to be studied late at night, dragged back out and examined in minute detail, when the rest of them were otherwise entertained and I could once again think of that classic face and those eyes, the eyes that drew me in like nothing I'd ever experienced…

_Fresh air, need fresh air right now_. I glanced at my siblings and with a nod quickly got up and strolled out the door. Behavior still as expected, I left them thinking I'd walked away from the sea of screaming minds. I flew around the corner and lowered myself against the cool bricks of the building. Rubbing my temples I forced my mind to slow, store and retrieve for later, wait until it's safe, wait until I'm hidden once again, alone in my corners.

Ten minutes was all it took. Rising and strolling with new determination I headed towards biology just as I had done time and time again, ignoring those around me and forcing the bubble up, the bubble no one came near as I walked through the door and settled in my seat.

This was fine, controlled and calm as I listened to the teacher mumble about this and that and nothing I needed to learn, nothing I did not already know. Gently, carefully, like picking up the edge of a bloody sheet to see what is beneath, I examined how I had felt less than a half hour earlier. I was drawn, I could not deny it. I was drawn to a female, I was aroused by a female yet I knew it was impossible. I had been frozen like this for 85 years and we had all agreed – I had been changed too soon, too young and before I had any thoughts except literature and music and the War. I was stuck like this and although Carlisle spent 60 years apologizing to me I did not care, I did not miss what I did not know, what I did not understand. Music was my life, great and triumphant literature was my life. I was fine, I was as happy as I expected to be. I was alone among the others but that was fine. I was…fine. Until now.

Shaking my head I looked down and opened my thoughts to the din of the classroom, hoping to drown out my internal monologue for bit. Don't think about it now, do it later. Maybe not later, maybe never. No need for something new, no need for something different. _I had enough of a shock while hunting last night, another thing to think about later_. Smoothing out my breaths I had finally calmed myself when I heard the faint whoosh of the furnace across the building, the low clank of warm air moving through the vents, the furnace fan kicking on and the first soft breaths of heated air filtering into the room from the back and _oh dear god…_

Flowers, sweetness, overwhelmingly mouth watering, throat constricting, burning, passion-laced scents and more flowers and mind numbing and losing control and images of human blood flowing into my mouth and down my throat soothing and whimpering with the ecstasy of it and _where is it?_

I whipped around and there she was. Sudden, overwhelming need, desire, hunger filled my every cell as her eyes lifted to mine and I stared into those deep pools of chocolate as more sensations started to overwhelm me, hunger and bloodlust and yearning and desire as, for the first time in all my years my pants started to constrict and I thought I was going mad. Fury, abject, overwhelming fury poured off me and towards this girl, this human sending off scent waves I could almost see, more flowers I now recognized as freesia and now adrenaline and the promise of the sweetest cognac in her veins and the even sweeter promise of her sex and _what the hell was happening to me?_

Out, now, gone. 30 seconds more and I flew out the door, through the building, out the side door, sucking in gasp after gasp of fresh air as I raced towards my car, gunned the engine and peeled out and away, as far away as I could go, as quickly as I could go.

I sped down the driveway and rushed into the house, ran to my room and locked myself inside. Trembling, frightened, I had not felt this disoriented since waking in a strange bed almost 90 years earlier. I had to get away from this town, get away from her. Shaking my head I wished for the first time I could cry as emotions and memories of sensations started to whip around me again. The insane allure of her blood mingled with the even more insane allure of her body. I would tell them, I would tell them half the truth. I had to leave or the town would risk a massacre. If they choose to follow they could but I had to leave. Now.

Suddenly my mind flashed to the evening before, hunting in the moonlight, running through the forest when I had the overwhelming sense of a presence – sweet and gentle but there and softly probing. My first instinct had been to stop and look around but there was no one there. Then the sensation of tiny tendrils, little fingers in the corner of my mind, as if hidden behind a door guarding a room full of sweet arid scents and sunlight and the quiet thoughts of someone waiting for me, just out of reach and hiding.

I shrugged it off and continued the hunt, but now I thought back to it and wondered if this rush of new feelings and the strange sensation from last night were connected? No matter, there would be time for me to sort out my thoughts later. First things first, I had to leave Forks and head north. The family would understand. I could tell them about the overpowering bloodlust and they would understand. The rest was mine until I understood it. No sense in alarming them, no sense in rocking the boat, no sense having them realize I may not be who we all thought I was. And I definitely was not letting them know I was running from the only woman who ever made me feel like a man.

**Lilliput's Playlist A/N:**

**Songs on the playlist for this story will be numbered in sequence. In Chapter 2, we have songs 3, 4, and 5. Edward is feeling overwhelmed in this chapter, physically and emotionally. His songs reflect that. Also, I couldn't resist having Edward's first song in this chapter be "You're Beautiful" in response to Bella's "I'm Ugly" from Chapter 1.**

**Songs for Chapter 2**

3. You're Beautiful by James Blunt. For Edward's first sight of Bella.

4. Over My Head by The Fray. For Edward's flight from his singer.

5. Orange Sky by Alexi Murdoch. Because Edward feels overwhelmed.

**Listen to all the songs for this story by visiting the playlist, which is linked in my profile and is at the following url:**

**www[dot]playlist[dot]com/playlist/16715134219**

**Please review, and thank you for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 3

_**August 2003**_

BPOV

_The wind whipped across the tundra like waves across a beach, searching and probing and swirling relentlessly through the night, carrying snow and ice and soft whining noises all set under the hard gaze of countless stars circling above. I ran through the snow, across the ice, above the lakes, always seeking, always running, always attuned to each and every sound, every living creature hidden in this wasteland._

_A bit of a scent, the muffled hammering of a heartbeat against the backdrop of the roaring of the wind and I was off. My legs powering me forward in long, quick strides, overjoyed with the grace and speed while I started to growl and a snarl started to build and the scent became stronger and the heartbeat drowned all else and I once again bunched my muscles and with everything I had I drove myself upwards and I . . .  
_

My eyes flashed open. Oh no, not again, not again. I sat up, startled, panting, and nostrils flaring. Every week, sometimes twice a week, sometimes even a two week break but then they returned. These damned dreams that were more alive, more sensuous than my real life, drawing me in and then dumping me back on my bed with a snarl in my throat and a burning when I breathed. The only thing new is no more forests. It was all cold, frozen, vast expanses of sky and frozen breath in my nose.

What was I in these dreams? An animal? I mean, I know I'm not human but what? I took a few deep breaths and wandered over to my laptop, pulling up Google. On a whim, I decided to see what I would get when I typed in "wolf dreams."

"The wolf is often a symbol of loneliness or predator behavior in dreams. If you dream of a wolf, you are probably in a situation where you lack friendship or companionship."

Well duh. Simple explanation. I could live with a few dreams now and again, right?

Looks like I'd have to, because all through my high school years they were regular visitors at night. I almost grew to expect them; I started to wonder if I'd miss them.

* * *

_**June 2005**_

I woke on the morning of June 20th to a surprisingly sunny sky and warm breezes blowing through my window. It was finally here - graduation. At long last, time to leave Forks and enter the next chapter of my life. My life itself hadn't changed, my world was the same, including the dreams – my constant companion. But I was going to be charging across the country, a full scholarship to Cornell, 4 years in Ithaca, New York and the school of my dreams. Medical research was at the end of my studies, I just knew it. A place to immerse myself and devote myself and find passion and still, yet still, remain unto myself. It was my dream, and I was finally taking the first step towards living it.

Charlie had insisted I attend the HS graduation ceremony, which was absurd but I guess after 2 years of not harassing me about living my life in my room and school I'd give him this before I left. Feeling incredibly awkward as I hung out towards the back of the line, students giggled and shouted and bounced all around me while I quietly stood there, complete in myself and praying no one would talk to me. I shouldn't have had to pray – after two years they all knew better and it wasn't going to change tonight.

Charlie and I had a quiet celebratory dinner and when we got home I did what I always did – trudged up the stairs to my room. I sighed softly as I thought about it, how painless it was because nothing really touched me anyway. Only one thing had ever touched me, or _someone_ I should say. It was the only time my heart raced and my adrenaline kicked in, and it happened only twice, and both times happened within a two hour span, and then it never happened again. I pushed aside the memory as I folded the gown, put the cap on the top shelf of my closet, and got ready for a long hot shower and a good night's sleep. Maybe I'll be a wolf again tonight. It was a comforting thought. I wonder if I'd still be the wolf when I left for Cornell or if this was a stupid Forks thing.

_For the first time no rush tonight, just softly walking through the moonlit trees, searching for something, as if something is out there just beyond my reach, just beyond my senses. Head swinging from side to side as I walk without a whisper of sound, weaving through the trees and ferns on heightened alert, listening, scenting the air, looking, trying to feel for it. For the first time in two years I'm back in the forest and I'm reveling in the exotic scents and timeless droning of insects and the soft ground beneath my feet._

_I wander aimlessly, unable to find it, searching, searching, until I come across a pool, a dark forest pool bathed in moonlight. I tip toe to it, careful, feeling as if a pivotal point has been reached, as if this is what I have been searching for all this time. Would I finally see myself as wolf? Learn my color, see my fur sparkle in the moonlight? Slowly, quietly, I approach the calm, reflective pool, until I reach the edge. I was breathing faster, anxiety starting to rise as I leaned towards my reflection, and I closed my eyes and leaned a bit more, and a bit more, and when I was over the pool I slowly opened my eyes to finally see the wolf, after two years of dreams I'd finally see it._

It was my own gasp that woke me. Surprise, shock, totally unexpected, a sense of being wrenched outside my body and suddenly everything I thought I knew I didn't. Because as I opened my eyes and stared into the pool instead of a wolf I saw a moonlit, backlit form…wildly disheveled hair and broad shoulders and tall, slim build and it was suddenly familiar yet it wasn't but it wasn't me and it wasn't the wolf but at the same time it WAS me and at the same time it wasn't, but whatever it was reacted as I reacted, started as I started, gasped when I gasped, breathed in compulsively and wildly and then I was awake.

And all that was left behind was a gasping breath and a scent. A scent of sun and honey and man that I took in, in my dream, and that was still covering my hands as I sat up in my bed, eyes wild, hands in front of my face, panting madly, and completely awake.

EPOV

It was her! Has it been her all along, these last two years? This is not possible, this simply is not possible!

I sat back, falling away from the pool as I scanned the forest, feeling fear for the first time in all my years. I was tempted to lean over and look again but I could not bring myself to move. Thoughts darting wildly, out of control, and I am NEVER out of control.

Well, only once…only once. And when my panic slowly subsided I noticed something else. My nostrils flared slightly, a scent around me. Lifting my hands I stared at them and then slowly raised them to my face. Flowers. My hands smelled of flowers. Freesias, to be exact.

**Lilliput's Playlist A/N:**

**Bella and Edward each get the surprises of their lives in this chapter. Which is why the main lyric in Bella's song is "Oh my god!" and Edward's song has him going "Crazy." **

**Songs for Chapter 3**

6. Wolfboy by Blair. For Bella's shock at her "wolf dream" and the reflection she sees.

7. Crazy by Ray LaMontagne. Because Edward is stunned at the reflection, too.

**Listen to all the songs for this story by visiting the playlist, which is linked in my profile and is at the following url:**

**www[dot]playlist[dot]com/playlist/16715134219**

**Please review, and thank you for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 4

_**June, 2005**_

EPOV

I gazed out the window and stared, unseeing, at the softly moving leaves as the breeze swirled around the trees. It was night time, and it was late, and all the members of this odd family were otherwise occupied. I was sitting on the couch in my room, door firmly locked, taking this rare private moment to examine what happened the night before. For two years I had felt a presence in my mind as I hunted, every time I hunted, but at no other time at all. It did not interfere, but rather felt as if it was observing, along for the ride, and yet utterly barred from me. Regardless of how hard I tried, I could only manage to feel the sense of tendrils creeping from their corner before they were swiftly locked away. Eventually I stopped trying to capture the presence and just accepted it. It did not feel threatening at all, but instead gentle, curious, and oddly, _pure_. I sensed a sweetness from it. I had gotten used to it and come to expect it. I would have missed it had it not been there. And I told no one about it.

But last night was different. I had no need to hunt but I had a driving need to wander. Driving barely did it justice, it was an impulse so strong I could not have resisted, almost as if I was being told to go, to search, to find that one place in the forest where answers would start to be revealed – but instead I got the most monumental shock of my long life, and only more questions.

I ran home, unable to look in the forest pool any longer, afraid I'd see her reflection again instead of my own. I had spent two years doing all I could to forget her face, forget her beauty, forget her unique sexual allure, forget the erotic feelings she aroused in me, to convince myself it was an aberration and to return to the quiet and comfortable solitude of my existence. And now all that self-control was gone as the memories cascaded back, the memories of that single day— and I knew, I just knew I would never be able to place them back into that dark corner again.

And I did not even know her name.

I stood and walked over to the window, leaning my head against the cool glass. Why now, why this? Was it a hallucination? Should I tell Carlisle? What would he think of this new and stranger aspect of my nature? I have always had mind reading, a love of solitude, and asexuality. Well, I did. I did not know what I was any longer, but tonight's event — like my sweet and elusive hunting companion — was mine and mine alone and I was determined to keep it that way. There would be no discussions with Carlisle, or anyone else for that matter. The decision of what, if anything, to do about this was also mine and mine alone. I had the time to decide, and I was going to do this right.

* * *

When you are immortal, the passage of time can feel insignificant. So, while I took every spare moment I had to think about the meaning of this encounter, a couple of months passed. Finally, and rather regretfully, I came to the conclusion that I did not have answers as of yet and that perhaps, with time, I might. Not a problem, I had plenty of time. But in the shorter term I found myself more and more drawn to my memories of the girl herself. I replayed, again and again, each detail of our brief encounter that day in that high school in Washington. With perfect recall I could see her visage, her classic Grecian beauty with eyes I could drown in, the set of her perfect mouth, the clarity of her flawless skin, the silk of her thick and cascading hair. The very thought of her, driven back to the surface by seeing her reflection in the pool, quickened my breath and ignited feelings I had not experienced before or since that day.

I was in our yard, wandering among the trees, head down with my hand running through my hair. I could feel the crispness in the night air as summer slipped towards autumn, little puffs of cool breezes lifting my already disheveled hair. For the first time in decades I could feel the slip of time, sliding around me while I remained static. This woman had aged into an adult, but I was as I ever was. Yet I wasn't. My awareness of her presence in this world irrevocably altered me. I was now living a half life, finally understanding what I was missing, yet completely unable to reach for it and draw it to me.

I thought, I mourned, I analyzed, and made a decision – a decision so bold I trembled with its audacity. A decision that would complete the change of who I was for eternity, and a decision that would be mine alone, along with its consequences.

I decided to create a world with her, to take advantage of my expanded and multi-layered mind and live with her, within the confines of my mind, known only to myself. It was the only way, it was the safest way. Safe from the raging bloodlust that was a part of — but not all of — her appeal. Safe from a family who would need to re-evaluate who they thought I was if they found out about this. Safe to appear to be the same yet not be the same.

To decide otherwise would be intolerable because she was all that consumed my thoughts since that quiet night by the pool. I needed more. But to pursue the alternative was unacceptable because, even if I could actually find her again on this earth, I most sincerely doubted the monster within me would allow me to let her live. Therefore, in the quiet dark hours when my solitude was most complete I would reach through my mind for my memories of those two brief encounters and create a tapestry of a life with the only woman who ever stirred me. It would be more than I have ever had, and more than I _could_ ever have.

Only three things remained as loose ends. First, my hunting companion, that sweet presence in my mind, disappeared, and I had not a clue why – but it frightened me. Second, I still did not know her name. And last, why did Alice not see any of this? Something told me that was important. Critically important.

**A/N:**

**Edward takes some pretty big steps in this chapter. Just the thought of Bella makes him feel things he's never felt before, so he decides to create a world where he can be with her. Consequently, his songs for this chapter are:**

8. Northern Sky by Nick Drake. For Edward as he cherishes his memory of Bella.

9. Into Your Arms by The Lemonheads. For Edward's decision to create a fantasy world with Bella.

**Again, you can listen to all the songs for this story by visiting the playlist, which is linked in my profile and is at the following url:**

**www[dot]playlist[dot]com/playlist/16715134219**

**Thanks so much to everyone who has put this story on alert or on a favorites list. Hope you're enjoying it— and please review! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 5

_**Early September, 2005**_

BPOV

Snatching the paper with the chicken-scratch notes off the passenger seat I tried to read and drive at the same time. "First left, next right, fourth building on the right is Marcus Hall, room 107," I mumbled to myself craning my neck to take in the sights and sounds while trying to avoid the thousands of other students making their way through the maze of dorms. "A bike might be the best idea," I muttered as gridlock gripped the narrow intersection and the late summer heat had sweat pouring down my neck.

Then I giggled. Right, a bike in Ithaca, NY. I did really well for myself, I thought sarcastically. Not only did I manage to get out of the cloudiest and rainiest location in the U.S. but somehow managed to relocate myself to an almost equally cloudy location that has the additional distinction of getting large amounts of snow. "Out of the frying pan and into the…" ah, there it is, pulling into a parking space surprisingly close to the front door. I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding, and looked up at the institutional 4 story brick and cinderblock building and internally greeted my new home for the next four years.

A four year full scholarship to Cornell, I still couldn't believe it. Bella Swan and Ivy League, no one would have ever thought they'd fit together in the same sentence. Not only a full scholarship but one that covered room and board and even went so far as to allow me a private dorm room. I looked towards the heavens, thanked the gods of university admissions and whoever seemed to understand sharing a room might have made me reconsider this generous offer. Things were good. I was out of high school, I was out of Forks, I was a registered student at Cornell University, and I could still maintain my solitude. Life was perfect.

Well, almost. The strange and surreal dreams that I had had for two years had stopped. They were gone and I didn't know why. Not only that, but I felt an aching loss at their absence, and I couldn't understand why it upset me. The very last dream was the strangest one of all, on the night of my high school graduation, when I had seen the shadowy reflection of a startled man in the forest pool. After that, there had been no more such dreams all summer long. As absurd as it seemed, I felt as if I'd lost a part of my life – even a part of my soul. But that was ridiculous. They were recurring dreams and nothing else. If I was studying psychology I'm sure I'd discover whatever started them resolved itself in my silly head and that was it. I should be relieved my subconscious was moving on. But I wasn't relieved. I missed the dreams. I missed the grace and motion and primal drive that filled me and offered a freedom that existed no where else in my life.

"Bullshit," I exclaimed to no one in particular. Reality is school and music and books and my mind is simply telling me it's time to get back to them fulltime with no interruptions. Cornell would be tough enough without nightly romps in the forest – even in my dreams. I'm far better off dreaming about differential equations.

Laughing under my breath I got out of the car, popped the trunk and grabbed whatever I could manage in my first trip. Closing the trunk I ran my hand over the smooth midnight blue paint of my brand new Hyundai. The truck was still alive, merely retired in Charlie's driveway because a cross-country trip was out of the question for its poor senior citizen self. The new car was a graduation gift from both Charlie and Renee and, since my education was completely paid for it was the one time I decided to accept a gift with grace. They better not get used to it.

Balancing a suitcase in each hand I got through the main doors and past the reception area that was decorated in colorful posters announcing various events, student clubs and dorm rules. I made my way down the cream-colored cinderblock corridors and stopped in front of room 107. Slipping the key into the lock I opened the door and smiled. Simple - room for a dresser and a desk and a bed and a closet - it was home. My home.

* * *

_A noise from the far corner of my room made me raise my head from my pillow and search the dark recesses for the source of the sound. My window started to slowly slide open, so slowly I wasn't certain what I was seeing, but then I started to panic and tried to move but I couldn't and tried to scream but I couldn't and all I could do was just stare as the window went up and up and revealed a silhouette…_

_Framed in the window before me was the same silhouette as in the last dream before the dreamless summer months - the silhouette from the forest pool. The disheveled hair and broad shoulders and lean body and long legs. I got goose bumps as he first took one long leg and slid it over the sill and then the other. My god, he was standing inside my room, window behind him and still nothing more than a silhouette. My heart was pounding, my body frozen as I stared at him. My mouth was dry and every nerve ending in my body was at attention. He stood there, unmoving, still as a statue. I was sure time had stopped until a breeze billowed my curtains and carried to me that same scent of sun and honey and man that I had experienced only once before. I gasped as I took a deep breath and my eyes rolled back and my entire being both ignited and relaxed as my head fell back on the pillow._

_My eyes suddenly heavy, I watched him glide across the floor, towards my bed, towards me, his scent simultaneously filling me, exciting me, relaxing me, enticing me, and I could not take my eyes off him. As he got nearer he developed substance and depth. I could see the tight muscles of his arms and chest contract beneath his shirt but his face was featureless, like smoke in a glass jar, his identity obscured. But it made no difference because his presence was so powerful I could feel where his features should be – where his piercing eyes should be, where his aristocratic nose should be, where his full lips should be. I held my breath as he leaned towards me, painfully slowly until his cloudy face hovered over mine and I heard him faintly whisper, "My love," as his hand touched my cheek and lowered his lips to mine. As smooth as glass they glided and my body caught fire as a strangled moan of desire left my throat. And then with another whispered, "Beloved," he faded, and faded, and all that was left was the scent of sun and honey and man and myself, trembling in my bed._

I slowly opened my eyes. The sun was shining through the translucent fabric of my curtains, the room bathed in golden light and an odd sense of peace. Lifting my head I stared at my closed window and tried to arrange my thoughts. I knew it was a dream, but so unlike the others. It was the man from the reflection in the pool, I knew that, but that was all I knew. Why was I dreaming of him? Who was he and why could I see everything about him but his face? I ran my fingers over my lips as I thought about that dream kiss, the feel of his lips on mine, the burn of desire that simple touch woke in my being. I smiled softly as I thought of the whispered words of love.

I turned my head and buried my nose in my pillow and my breath caught, and my body froze. And then I closed my eyes and breathed in the heavenly fragrance of sun, and honey, and man from the very depths of the fabric of my pillowcase.

I could live with this kind of dream, I could welcome it every night.

**A/N:**

**Only one song for Chapter 5, but it's a great song. If you don't know Lisa Hannigan, please let me introduce you. In this chapter, Bella sees her hazy dream man for the first time, and it's all just a bit "Blurry."**

**Song for Chapter 5**

10. Blurry by Lisa Hannigan. For Bella when she can't see her dream man's face.

**You can hear the songs for all the chapters by visiting the playlist, which is linked in my profile and is at the following url: **

**www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Once again-- big THANKS to everyone who has put this story on alert, on a favorites list, or who has left a review. Hope you're enjoying it— FantasyMother and I especially hope you'll leave a review and tell us what you think! :^D**

**There's a thread for this story on the Twilighted forum under the Alternate Universe section if you care to visit. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 6

_**October, 2005**_

BPOV

"So Bella, tell me something about yourself." I looked up, startled he was looking at me, and was immediately uncomfortable. This was my own fault. I had decided to be here. Heaven knows what I had been thinking.

At the time it seemed like the lesser of two evils. Mike Newton had found me in the library, and somehow seeing past my ever-present cloak of invisibility decided to make me his personal project. Day after day he made a point of showing up whenever I was there until I didn't have a moment's peace. Dogging me endlessly with the eagerness of a Golden Retriever, Mike seemed desperate for attention, and inexplicably, he seemed determined to have that attention from _me_.

After two weeks of this I gave up and agreed to meet him at the local Cracker Barrel – his choice. Classy date to him I suppose; he was originally from Virginia and told me he loved traditional southern fare. And so here I sat after an hour of his endless wandering through the store in front, resisting his attempts to buy me Halloween paraphernalia complete with fake vampire fangs and a black cloak and a stuffed bat. Finally seated inside the restaurant I vowed to get this over with - finish the meal, get back to my car, and get myself back into my dorm room.

I glanced at the menu, wondering if there was anything in here that wasn't served with okra, when I heard his innocent question and made the mistake of lifting my eyes above the menu, and really saw him for the first time tonight. His face was flushed and had a slight sheen of sweat. His mouth was partially open and his tongue was stuck between his lips, the tip sticking out just a bit. I suddenly saw him as that overeager dog, panting, waiting for his treat. Unable to control myself, I started to giggle as I thanked my lucky stars I was short enough that he'd have trouble bending down if he wanted to sniff my bu-- _Stop it, Bella_, I told myself_. Think of something else. Don't be rude, just get through this and get out. _But it was too late. The giggles started to turn to snorts and then to laughter and when I looked at his dull blue eyes again and saw the look of utter confusion I put my hand over my mouth and managed to control myself by thinking about the calculus test I had tomorrow, the frog waiting in a jar for its untimely dissection.

"Uh, was that a funny question?" Mike started to squirm in his seat, looking mighty uncomfortable, and that was fine because I was mighty uncomfortable too. In fact, I had an overwhelming urge to figure out a way of getting out of there. Fast. _God, this was a mistake._

"No Mike," I said with resignation, turning back to my menu. "There's just nothing really to say about myself. I'm from Washington State. All my focus has to remain on schoolwork in order to maintain my scholarship." There, that was enough, he was getting no more.

He took the hint, for the moment at least. A sweetly smiling waitress came over, looked at the two of us, gave me a look that exuded sympathy, and took our orders.

And the silence grew, which was fine by me with but clearly made Mike uncomfortable. I realized he was a person used to filling the void with endless babble. I was distracting myself by thinking how strange it must be to live like that. Thankfully, our waitress brought our food and, with one more smirk at me, walked away and left us to our … okra.

Looking down at my plate, looking anywhere but at the panting dog, I reached across the table to grab the salt. That's when he did it. His hand descended on mine. I froze and looked up. It was no longer just a sheen of sweat on his face. I looked at my hand and suddenly felt it – the humid heat of his sweaty palm touching me. I had an overwhelming urge to yank my hand away and rub it on my pant leg to wipe off the traces of sweat and germs he'd left on my skin. My nerve endings were reacting wildly where his clammy hand was still on top of mine, like I'd been exposed to a contaminant or a slug had crawled on me. My mind and body were screaming, _Get it off, wipe it off, get away from it!_

The bile rose in my throat and my stomach churned as I looked down at the chicken swimming in grease, the lumpy potatoes and the okra winking at me. Grabbing my purse off the floor I looked up at Mike and managed to blurt out "Sick. Very. Leave now. Bye." Praying I wouldn't trip on my way, I ran through the restaurant, out through the silly front store whose smell was now as off-putting to me as the perfume department at Bloomingdale's. I flung open the front doors, frantically swallowed the fresh air, and headed directly for my car.

Back in the security of my dorm room I could finally catch my breath, wondering what had happened to me. Was it a panic attack because I was on my first date? I thought it through, turning over the events again and again and came to the conclusion it was Mike and his faded eyes and his sweat and his sticky hands. It just wasn't right. It just did not compare to…

I flopped on my bed, put my head in my hands and sighed. I knew the problem wasn't really Mike. He was a nice enough guy. The problem was that Mike could not compare to a dream. I realized then that nobody could compare to this dream. I was falling in love with a faceless stranger who visited me almost every night, and I feared I would never find anything or anyone in real life that could compete. I wasn't sure I wanted to but, well, it scared me. It wasn't normal.

I grabbed my toiletry bag and went to take a long, hot, sterilizing shower. Afterward, I trudged over to my bed, turned off the light and just lay there with my eyes open, staring at nothing. I couldn't shake the feeling this was all I'd ever have in my solitary life, all the love I'd have. Love that I knew had to be created by my subconscious. I created the perfect man for me, but he wasn't real. Tears slowly slid down my cheeks as I closed my eyes and wept at the loss of something I never really had.

_My eyes opened when I felt my bed sag down on one side, and quickly turned to look at the source of the unexpected weight. He was sitting there, his magnificent body twisted so he was facing me. The scent of him swirled around me and made my lips burn with desire, and my stomach clenched in a not unpleasant way. Slowly, timidly, he reached over and gently took my hand – tracing my knuckles with his long fingers, then turning my hand over and reverently rubbing my palm. He brought his other hand around to cup my hand in both of his, engulfing it in his touch. This was nothing like the revolting sensation I had earlier when Mike Newton touched me. This felt perfect, right, absolutely glorious. Slowly, painfully slowly, he raised my hand to his lips and grazed my palm. I could have sworn that I felt his breath on me as he sighed._

"_What's the matter beloved?" he whispered. I looked towards where his eyes should be, wishing I could see them, wondering if I looked hard enough they'd be there. But the more I looked the less I could see, as if his features were really there but constantly shifting out of range. I tore my eyes away and glanced over his shoulder, feeling the magnetic pull of this man while at the same time feeling the unbearable sorrow of my loss. He carefully laid my hand back on the bed and leaned over toward me. He slid one arm around my waist and the other between my shoulder blades while he lifted me towards him in a tender embrace. Hugging my waist tighter, he ran a hand up to the back of my head and drew my tear-streaked face to the crook of his neck. Then he started to gently rock, tilting his head so I could feel his cool breath on my neck. And then from nowhere, I heard the unmistakable sound of music. Soft, slow, lovely music from an unseen piano, its notes delicately moving around my room like the water of a rippling stream, clear and beautiful, inviting and soothing. As the music filled my room, the atmosphere became sweeter still when he began humming in my ear, filling my being with an irresistible melody in perfect counterpoint to the piano. His voice was sensuous and full of hope and, more than anything else, full of love. I felt infused with the overwhelming knowledge that wherever we were, whether in my imagination or subconscious, his arms were the place I belonged. I was home. _

EPOV

Sitting on the piano bench I removed my hands from the keys and tried to assess what just happened. Why would my mind show my love so sad, so broken? Why would my fantasy turn in this direction? Was it so I could feel my unbeating heart break with hers? Why did she need comforting, and why did the lullaby that I'd written for this quiet and lovely woman seem to be exactly what she needed?

While one part of my mind reeled with confusion, another part realized that I was sitting in the music room of our home — a common area where any family member might wander in, detect my stunned emotional state, and start asking questions for which I did not have answers. I bounded up the stairs and managed to get back to my room without encounter, where I collapsed onto my couch, head back and eyes closed.

This did not make sense — she was not real. She was just the product of my imagination. Did I need to feel needed, did I need to feel I could help? Was this my mind going beyond what I consciously created and taking flight on its own as it sought to fulfill all I required?

I lifted my eyes to the windows, watching the dark of night turn to the steel grey of a cloudy, morning sky. There were no answers to be found yet, just a yearning for the next night when I might see my love again — and the bizarre and nagging burning to know what made my fantasy weep.

**A/N:**

**The playlist songs are pretty sad for Chapter 6. Bella is feeling downright awkward and weird in this chapter, so she gets the Kate Havnevik song "Unlike Me" and The Bird and the Bee's "Broken Heart." **

**Songs for Chapter 6**

11. Unlike Me by Kate Havnevik. Because Bella feels like a misfit.

12. I'm a Broken Heart by The Bird and the Bee. For Bella's yearning.

**You can hear all the songs for this story by visiting the playlist on my profile or at**

**www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Once again, huge thanks to everyone who has put this story on alert, on a favorites list, or who has left a review. Hope you'll stick around and continue to enjoy— and please review! More to come M-F of next week.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

Chapter 7

_**February 2008**_

BPOV

The wind was whipping through my hair and the icy needles of sleet were stinging my face as I looked down below my feet at Cascadilla Gorge. Conveniently situated right on campus, it was the favorite local spot for drug-crazed kids and suicidal students. So famous was its draw it should have its own page in the campus brochure. _Come to Cornell University; experience the wonders of one of the most popular suicide spots on earth._

I closed my eyes and slowly shook my head, trying to concentrate on the fleeting thoughts I could still process instead of the biting cold of the wind and the sleet. It was too much, it was all too much. It wasn't school, no, not that. The pressures of Ivy League took most to this spot — the stresses from family and scholarship committees and the ugly competition amongst the student body, making some willing to crawl over each other to have their moment of glory in the sun. None of those things was a problem for me. My GPA was a rock solid 4.0. My social life was nonexistent thanks to that disastrous date with Mike in my freshman year. No one had asked me out since, but I had no sadness about it. I wanted no friends, I wanted no dates. I could be complete and happy unto myself…most of the time.

It was my dream man, the man I had come to love, who was driving me to depression, driving me to wander the edge of this gorge. I knew I should seek therapy, but the thought of anything that might eliminate him from my life caused me a sense of loss so profound pain would lance through me as if I had been stabbed in the chest. It was not a consideration, could not _be_ a consideration. He was my life now, and if it meant I lived even more within my own head it no longer mattered. In my dreams, he was real and even though I could never see his face, his presence was substantial enough to me. Even if he was just my overactive imagination, he gave me more pleasure, more comfort, and more love than anything I had ever known in my 21 years.

But it wasn't enough, _I _wasn't enough, and those were the thoughts that drove me here today. Perhaps I could accept that the love of my life appeared only in my dreams but what made it truly unbearable was that, after three years of sweet, surreal encounters, I had to conclude that even in my dreams he didn't desire me as a woman. Each morning I woke with my heart racing and my blood boiling and the raging desire to be taken, and each night, when he came to me and seemed to cherish me, he did no more then kiss me and hold me and hum to me.

I shook my head, droplets of freezing water raining down my neck. The ugly truth was, even though I couldn't resist thinking of my lover as an entity apart from myself, he was no more than a product of my imagination. This meant even my subconscious thought I was worthy of no more, not worthy of lust, of animalistic need. These thoughts grew and consumed me until here I stood, battered by the ice storm, looking down at the gorge, into the swirling ice crystals hanging in the air.

Feet numb from cold, and mind numb from despair, I took a deep breath and stepped towards the edge of the gorge when something caught my eye, a shadow off to the right — fleeting, darting in and out, pulling me out of my reverie. I tried to make out what it was through the blur of falling ice, but I couldn't see clearly. A sharp crack to my left and I spun, and there it was — a shadow, almost like a void in the atmosphere. I could feel it radiating heat and energy, the sleet changing to rain in its immediate proximity, giving it a barely defined, amorphous shape. It pulsated, expanding and contracting as if it were a beating heart. The hairs on my arms stood up, and I reached under my sleeve to grab a pinch of skin and squeezed hard…but I didn't wake up. This was not a dream. I was standing on the edge of Cascadilla Gorge looking at something that shouldn't be there.

_"Talk to him," _the sound reverberated in my head and I almost fell backwards into the gorge - barely catching myself. What? What did it say?

_"Talk to him," _it chimed, the beauty of the voice assaulting my senses. I felt like I was hearing the pure truth for the first time in my life. Stepping away from the edge I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking the sting of the ice, the freezing rain, the thing pulsing in the middle of the storm. But I could still see it, burned behind my eyelids. I could still hear it, the fading echoes of its words softly bouncing through my mind.

I stayed frozen in the middle of the storm, eyes squeezed shut – the only movement my hammering heart and quickening breaths. Finally, I risked a peek – and it was gone. The only evidence of its existence was a rapidly freezing pool of water set in the middle of the deep snow and ice. My mind was in chaos, shutting down bit by bit as sensory overload kicked in survival mode, narrowing my thoughts to a single node that replayed itself again and again.

_How the hell am I supposed to talk to a dream?_

_*__ * *_

Later that night, after I had showered and crawled into bed, I thought more about what had happened. Something had come to me and delivered a message loud and clear. Was it my own imagination again, or was it something outside myself – something supernatural? Did I even believe in the supernatural, and if I did, could I even follow its advice? Would I be able to make my subconscious self tell my imaginary lover I wanted more from him? I had no idea how to control my dreams.

I laughed softly at the absurdity of the situation. As far as I could tell, a supernatural being told me to talk to my imaginary lover about making love to me in my dreams. When I looked at it that way, my emotions abruptly crossed the thin line from mirth to sorrow as I felt my chest hitch and my laughs threaten to transform into tears. I didn't know how I could continue on this way, never having real love, never looking into his eyes and not only feeling the love, but seeing it look back at me. With a sigh, knowing I would continue to subject myself to this dream of a life, I rolled over to my side, closed my eyes and waited, hoping he would come to me tonight.

_I was still lying on my side but something was behind me, molding itself to my back. Two arms snaked around me, strong arms, I could see the tendons and muscles rippling to hold me tight. I sighed and turned my head, seeing what I expected to see…the fractured air where his face should be. But I could feel his breath and I could smell the sun and the honey as he held me against his chest. My heart skipped a beat and then went into overdrive, and I tried to memorize every bit of every part of this feeling of being held so closely, so intimately._

"_I'd like to talk to you," my dream self said, to my own surprise. It surprised him, too, because his arms flew off me and he pulled back in shock. I took the opportunity to turn around so I was looking at him, his obscured face, his soft and disheveled hair. I took a deep breath, letting his scent permeate me, having its powerful effect on me, letting that familiar yearning engulf me, as it had every time I was near him over these past three years. I wanted to run my hands over his shoulders, down his arms, circling back over his chest, down his ribs, to his waist, over his hips, along his long legs…I wanted him and — oh my — I didn't know I could want so badly._

_I closed my eyes and thought back to the gorge and the void and the voice in my head, amazed I could do all this while dreaming. I reached deep inside myself to find the courage, and said, in a voice more clear than before, "Don't you want me?"_

_He sat straight up and stared at me, and I could sense shock on a face I could not see. "How could you ask that?" he whispered, wonder and amazement in his quiet words. He seemed frozen in time, still as a statue, waiting for something, waiting for me to explain, I supposed._

_I sat up next to him and looked down at my hands. "You're here most every night, you kiss me most every night, you hold me most every night . . . but every night I wish I could touch more of you, and that you . . . er . . . would want more of me." I cringed inside, if I could blush in my dream I would. I was trembling. Fear of the ultimate rejection threatened to drown me, because my rational mind knew it would be rejection of myself._

_Soft as a feather I felt a stroke upon my cheek and I looked up into where I knew his eyes were. Suddenly it didn't matter that I couldn't see him clearly, because I could feel his gaze and I could feel his love and yes, I could feel the heartache that was coming from him, not me. "Beloved" he murmured as he slid his hand under my chin, tipping my face to him as he slowly lowered his head and brushed his cold smooth lips against mine. He sighed and his cool sweet breath filled my mouth. I gasped, inhaling him deep within my lungs. I threw my arms around his neck and pulled myself closer, holding him tightly against me as I pressed my lips hard against his, trying to taste him and relish him._

_I felt his sudden intake of breath while both his arms circled my waist and he pulled me against his chest and his abdomen. I could feel him trembling, his chest rising and falling faster and faster as he parted his lips slightly and started to pant softly into my mouth. Suddenly I was consumed, I couldn't stop as I sucked on his lower lip and breathed into his face and ran kisses down his jaw and down his sweet-tasting neck while my hands traced over his shoulders and down the muscles of his back and . . . oh how I wanted more._

"_How could you think I don't want you," he growled into my neck, his voice reverberating deep from within his chest. The vibration took me to another level of passion and just as I was about to rise up on my knees he pushed his weight against me and lowered me to the bed, placing delicate kisses down my neck, licking and softly sucking my sensitive skin. He pressed himself hard against me, pushing me into the mattress and I felt my chest constrict with want and need and desire so overwhelming I was going mad with lust._

"_Take me," I whispered. _

"_Soon," he replied. His breath coated my lips and so I licked them, tasting him on me, taking him into my mouth. Opening my eyes I could feel his gaze again, drowning me, with me, falling into me as I fell into him. He groaned slightly, and it sounded almost like a purr as he leaned against me, gently rubbing his chest against mine. He slid down my body until his head was level with my chest. Slowly, tenderly he kissed my breasts through my t-shirt, and I felt worshipped. _

"_I need you," he said, almost pleading. "I have always needed you," he whispered into my chest as a large cool hand slid down my side to the edge of my shirt. Slowly, his long fingers slipped under the fabric and caressed my burning skin and I was set on fire again. Without thinking, I arched my back and pushed into him, trying to get closer. I was about to lose control. My breathing was ragged as his hand caressed my ribs and moved higher, tugging my shirt up as it went, and stopped just under my breast. He turned his face and oh so gently kissed my bare stomach as his hand slid up and over my breast, taking my shirt with it. All I could do was whimper at the sensation of his cool hands and his cool breath on my exposed body, and I arched even further, pressing myself into his hand and wrapping my leg around his hip and oh god I was going to die from pleasure._

"_Shhh…," he whispered, "Let's take this slowly my love." But he didn't move away from me. I could no longer speak; I was reduced to a jumble of nerves and sensations inside the blissful cocoon of his love. The feel of his hands on me and his lips grazing me was overpowering. I thought I would explode when he slowly slid his hand from my breast, down my stomach, and back to my side, leaving a trail of fire and ice. He leaned down and lightly took the tip of my breast into his mouth before he pulled my shirt back down and captured my lips in a long, sweet, searing kiss. Backing away slightly he looked at me, sighed and shook his head. Then he gently embraced me, slowly turning us as he once again wrapped his arms around me and spooned against my back. I lay in his arms and tried to slow my breathing._

"_We always have tomorrow, Beloved, and the tomorrow after that, and the tomorrow after that…" he breathed into the back of my neck, giving me a slight squeeze. Then he started to hum, and my body relaxed as I heard the piano again. I felt his love and breathed in his scent and—_

I was awake and staring at the wall by the side of my bed, lit by the bright morning sun. I had succeeded, I had controlled my dream enough to talk to him, and he had listened, and he was wonderful. As the memories of his touch washed over me, it made me tingle and stretch my limbs and roll over, taking a deep cleansing breath… I could have sworn that a trace of his glorious scent still hung in the air.

I sat up, throwing my legs over the side of the bed, and looked down at the side of the bed where he had lain in my dream. I froze.

"It has to be my imagination, there is no other explanation," I whispered in a daze. Trembling, I moved my hand over the mattress and softly caressed the sheets and pillows, tracing the cool indentation left by a body that was never there.

**A/N:**

**Bella's pretty sad as we begin Chapter 7, and she needs a bit of help and protection, so she gets Sia's "Breathe Me." Then she's got the wrong idea about her dream man's desires, so the Rachael Yamagata song, "Would You Please" seemed to fit. But in the end, a bit of "Magic" makes everything better.**

**Songs for Chapter 7**

13. Breathe Me, by Sia. For Bella on the edge of the gorge.

14. Would You Please, by Rachael Yamagata. For Bella's mistaken belief that her dream man doesn't want her.

15. Magic, by Colbie Caillat. Because Bella wants her dream man.

**You can hear all the songs for this story by visiting the playlist on my profile or at**

**www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Once again, huge thanks to everyone who has put this story on alert, on a favorites list, or who has left a review— especially the unregistered reviewers to whom the site doesn't let me respond. Hope you'll all stick around and continue to enjoy. Leave a review and let us know what you think, please. Updates are will be posted M-F this week. **

**And I've been remiss for not saying it up to now, but biggest thanks of all to my co-author and friend, FantasyMother. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

Chapter 8

_**February 2008**_

EPOV

I just sat there and stared at my hands, occasionally bringing them up to my face, inhaling the lingering scent of freesias that shouldn't be there, yet was – was always there.

I was losing control, and I did not know why. The concept seemed so simple, merely a way for me to control my obsession with the nameless, beautiful girl who had drawn me to her like no other. I found a way to love her in the privacy of my thoughts, and I reveled in the feeling of love returned, the intimate kisses I had never before experienced. For two and a half years my nights were consumed by her — every night I was not hunting. Her kisses brought me peace and the sweetest kind of love. I could easily have spent decades of my immortal life just replaying and examining each moment, perfecting the feel of her lips on mine. With each subtle change in technique, each new way I would kiss her, she responded just as my mind had hoped she would, as she had been created to do.

Of course there was one time near the beginning when she had seemed so sad, and I never knew why. But there was a perfectly sensible explanation for that. My mind was moving ahead of me, showing me what it felt like to be needed, what it would feel like to comfort. It was all quite…logical.

But not tonight, there was no logic to be found in tonight. She talked to me tonight. Her musical voice caught me completely unawares — during our brief encounter in high school I had never heard her speak — and hearing her tonight made me surge with a feeling I barely understood.

More than anything else, it terrified me.

It was not her voice that terrified me, it was what she, the creation of my mind, did with that voice. She asked me why I had not done more than embrace her and kiss her. She thought I did not want her. She felt rejected and asked me why and this made no sense at all. I _knew_ how much I wanted her. My mind understood my passion for her, and there was no reason for it to do this to me, to push me ahead of myself in this manner. I savored every moment with her, every kiss, every caress. There were no limits to our time and there was no reason to rush.

I quickly stood and started pacing. Not for the first time, I began to think I was falling into madness. How could the most ardent subject of my desires, the embodiment of my fantasy — with her classic beauty, flawless skin, piercing brown eyes, long lustrous hair and perfect body — think I did not want her? What manner of sickness could pervade my mind and bring such a thing to the surface of my imagination? I yearned to talk to Carlisle but knew I could not. I had caused him enough worry; I would not be the cause of more. He would think nothing good about this.

Dropping back to the couch I let my thoughts roam to the events of the evening. I smiled softly as I thought of her passion tonight, I had not imagined such a thing could be possible. I wanted to consume her and I felt her desire to consume me as we stared into each other's eyes. Maybe this was what my mind wanted after all? Reliving the memory was exquisite — her soft creamy skin under my fingers, the delicate feel of her breast in my hand, the way her nipple hardened against my tongue as I kissed it … these things were beyond what I thought my wildest imagination could deliver.

I looked down at my lap and realized I had a problem. I shifted uncomfortably and it dawned on me I needed to consider logistics.

I had promised we would make love as she begged me to take her, or rather, as the subject of my fantasy begged and…never mind, I'd explore the implications later. I assumed for the moment that my psyche had decided to take the next step. I suppose I was willing to explore it but…there was so much to consider.

Not the least of which was, would I be good enough, _could_ I be good enough? Is that what started all this, was my mind playing tricks on me by pushing me beyond my zone of comfort to…grow? What kind of growth? Looking at my lap again, I wondered if I was becoming as depraved as my brothers.

_What the hell was I thinking…I was questioning performance issues in my fantasies?_ Shifting again, trying to find a way to decrease my discomfort, I glanced at the door and considered the woefully inadequate lock on the doorknob. Perhaps a better lock was in order, something that would at least give me a moment to compose myself should a family member choose an inopportune moment to interrupt me. Perhaps a stronger door might be wise as well. With a deadbolt.

I looked up at the walls and wondered if soundproofing could be obtained that might muffle any inadvertent utterances from the ears of other vampires. Probably not. Maybe I could give them plane tickets to a far away hunting locale? Just in case, of course.

Then the idea struck me, brilliant in its simplicity. Tomorrow I would take the Volvo and go for a drive – nothing I would not be expected to do, no suspicions aroused. I knew of the perfect quiet and private field where I could be alone with only my imagination for company.

Despite the comfort that rational planning usually brought me, I found myself sighing. I looked up, staring out the window at the lingering remains of the ice storm, and felt my chest constrict as I was awash with pain, an intense sense of loss. With every fiber of my being I wished that she could be real, that we could walk hand in hand and she could love me and I could love her. That I could get up off this couch and find where she was and court her, and discover bloodlust could be overcome, and the thoughts of my family ignored and . . . ahh, this longing hurts so much.

And suddenly the fantasy no longer seemed enough, would never be enough. I wanted her, I wanted her in real life. I wanted her at my side, for eternity, and I did not care who knew about it. I felt my breath hitch, a wholly unfamiliar feeling, as I lay down on my couch and covered my eyes with my arm, and tried for the first time in all my immortal existence to find a release in tears.

**A/N:**

**It's a one-song chapter today, because all Edward wants is for Bella to "Be Here Now."**

**Song for Chapter 8**

16. Be Here Now, by Ray LaMontagne. Because Edward wants Bella.

**You can hear all the songs for this story by visiting the playlist on my profile or at**

**www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Once again, huge thanks to everyone who has put this story on alert, on a favorites list, or who has left a review. Updates are still on tap for every weekday this week. Thanks for reading, and please leave a review.**

**Special thanks to RingtheBella for being such a great supporter of this story.**

**Biggest thanks of all to my co-author and friend, FantasyMother. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

Chapter 9

_**February 2008**_

BPOV

Stopping in the aisle I took one more opportunity to look all around me, taking in the magnificent architecture. I was standing in The State Theatre in Ithaca, built in 1928, originally home to vaudeville, later converted to a movie house. Now it had come almost full circle and was used for eclectic concerts, like the Frank Gambale and Chic Corea concert that just ended. Jazz Fusion…exciting and lyrical and I just adored it.

Looking up the walls, past the marble scrollwork and the gargoyles and cupids, my eyes finally reached the ceiling — I had to look at it one more time. A backlit dome spanned the ceiling, painted a sky blue and dotted with realistic-looking clouds — it just took my breath away. So much hard work has gone into restoring this magnificent building, I felt privileged to be standing here, reliving a part of history.

"Hey lady, it's time to move." I glanced behind me, muttered an apology and continued walking up the aisle, lost in the press of the bodies around me, only to find it far worse as soon as I entered the lobby.

It was a sea of people, all crammed together like cattle and all trying to get to the main doors. I tried to find my inner self, to compartmentalize myself there until I could get out of this claustrophobic mess, but it wasn't working very well. My breathing quickened and I began to feel the first tingling of panic when . . .

_What is that? It can't be . . ._

I could feel myself burn as if a fuse had just been lit inside me. All of my senses were trained on the sun and honey scent of that one specific man. Desperate, I spun my head around trying to catch another whiff and then — yes, it had a direction! I started jumping, trying to see over the crush of bodies. My heart was beating in my throat as I caught a glimpse — yes! There, in front of me, too far away but still there and the right direction — a head above the others, the back of a head with distinctly bronze-colored hair and it was disheveled and I could almost see the waves of that unique scent flowing around him.

"Excuse me, let me through please . . . please let me through," I started pushing my way forward but it was no use. _Dammit, let me through!_ I could not get through the crowd fast enough. I kept my eyes on his head and that hair and my heart skipped a beat when I saw him leave through the lobby doors and turn left. One last push, people cursing behind me but I didn't care as I burst through the doors and looked to my left and . . . He wasn't there. My heart hammering, I ran down the street, praying, hoping, but . . . No.

He was gone.

Staggering over to a store front I leaned against it, trying to slow my heart and catch my breath. Calming a bit, I told myself I must have imagined it. It couldn't have been real. I leaned over and put my hands on my knees. I could feel the waves of disappointment start to crash down around me. "Just stop it, Bella" I chided myself. "Stop looking for him around corners, in crowds. It just isn't going to happen." I stayed there until my heart resumed a more normal rhythm as beads of sweat dripped down my neck and my eyes closed in resignation. Finally, reluctantly, I straightened up, pulled my shoulders back and with a sigh started walking to my car. I would take what I had, because I couldn't live without it, whatever it was.

My thoughts shifted to later tonight, and I hoped for a dream, a certain kind of dream.

* * *

I was never what you would call a "girly girl." I didn't wear makeup or spend much time styling my hair. My beauty regimen basically consisted of a hot shower and lots of soap. But on this night . . . it wasn't enough. By the time I was done in the bathroom I'd shaved and plucked and primped, and I was fairly sure there wasn't a drop of hot water left in this part of New York State.

I knew it was silly, trying to make myself look good for a dream. But maybe this was the magic ticket to tell my subconscious that I was ready and willing to say goodbye to my virginity — and to have my dream man become a dream lover. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

I put away my fears, my concerns, and my rational side. I stopped dwelling on the events from earlier this evening. My secret world of intimacy was too important to me to be distracted by the distinctions between what was real and what was not. _Real _was the fact that I loved this man with all my heart. It made no difference any longer that I was fully aware he didn't exist, I needed him. Tonight. And if, in waking life, I would never find someone who was one-tenth the man of my dreams then I would not settle. I would accept my dreams and live them as fully as I could. Or so I told myself . . .

I prepared myself as best I could, willing him to come to me, and praying I wouldn't be disappointed by one of those rare nights of dreamless sleep. Clean sheets, a candle softly burning on my desk, I was going to do something I've never done before. I slipped out of my robe and got into bed without a stitch of clothing on. The sheets felt cool against my skin. If all went as I planned, tomorrow I would wake a changed woman.

_I had barely closed my eyes when they opened again, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the wall and illuminating the man who now sat on the edge of my bed. Keeping the blanket close to my neck I turned and looked toward his face, always hoping to see the details that eluded me there, but I would not allow the fact I couldn't see his features bother me this evening. I could feel his gaze, I could touch his face, and that was enough. Tonight I would put away sight and focus on my other senses._

_I breathed deeply in pleasure and took in his scent. Unlike earlier at the theater, I could feel him here with me now. I whispered, "Good evening, my love." For the first time I said it to him, told him who he was to me, and I saw his head tilt a bit to the side, surprised but not unhappy. The only talk tonight would be of love, and so I held my arms out in invitation to the man whose very presence made me feel fully alive. "Love me, please."_

_Without a moment's hesitation he rushed into my waiting arms, cupping my face in his hands while my arms circled his strong, broad shoulders. He drew himself to me and softly touched my lips with his, barely kissing, slowly rubbing back and forth creating a delicious sensation that sent a tingling through my body. I lifted my arms so my hands could wrap behind his neck, feeling the soft curls at the base of his neck. I exhaled softly on his lips, feeling a pillow of air between us as we licked each other's lips, lost in the taste and anticipation of each other._

_Still giving me soft kisses, he slowly brought his cool hands down my neck until he reached my collar bones, then both hands slid sideways to my shoulders when I felt his hesitation._

_He pulled back slightly and looked down at me. I couldn't see it but I could feel his eyes widen with revelation as he took in one bare shoulder and then the other. He tightened his grip on me for just a moment, before relaxing once again and — god, there it was — that sound like a purr rising deep from his chest as he slid his arms around my bare back and pressed himself against me, his face buried in my neck as his purrs grew louder and his body started to tremble._

_Every nerve in my body came alive, and I gave up thought in favor of just feeling_ _— his hands on my back, his breath on my neck, his shudders, his purrs. I arched my back and moaned, grabbed his hair and tugged, needing to find his lips, his cool, firm lips, as I crushed mine to his, gasping in his sweet breath, tasting him on my tongue. He held me tighter, rushing to meet my frenzy as his hands slid up and down my back, up my neck, into my hair, slowly down my spine, across to my waist and down to my lower back, hard yet soothing and up again, his breaths coming quicker and his purring growing louder as I arched my back again and he pushed his body against mine, leaving not a bit of space between us._

_I pulled away and ran my tongue down his neck slowly - licking, nibbling, whimpering while he threw his head back with a guttural moan and gently slid his hands to my sides, and then slowly, reverently, he brought both hands to my breasts and cupped them, his touch soft as whispers, rubbing his palms over my peaks. Then escaping my lips he lowered his head and took my nipple in his mouth and sighed, sucking gently while I softly pulled him to my chest. I felt love, like a tangible thing, wrap around us._

_He withdrew slowly, sitting up and staring at me, the blanket now around my waist, my chest heaving and his chest heaving. He lifted his hands to his shirt and started unbuttoning it as he stared at me. "Oh love, you are exquisite," he whispered, and I felt myself start to melt, the passion for this man overwhelming me. He pulled his shirt off and I could see his glorious body, all flat planes and sinuous muscle. I reached a hand out tentatively, and with my fingertips I stroked his skin, feeling his cool firmness, his muscles shivering as he sat there, straining, trying to be still, as if he was submitting himself to the most pleasurable of tortures. Leaning towards him, tilting my head up to find his, I kissed him again, trying to convey to him in that single kiss my surrender to what this night might bring._

_I could feel his anticipation as he pulled back. The bed shifted as he stood, hands dropping to the button on his pants. I watched as he slowly undressed and allowed his remaining clothes to fall to the floor. He stood before me naked – head bowed as if to hide his shyness – but I was mesmerized. Without even thinking I lifted the edge of my blanket, and he gracefully slid underneath it, next to me once more. His long body pressed against mine as he pulled me to his chest, his throaty purrs vibrating us both. He held me, running his hands over me tenderly and carefully and cautiously. Our legs entwined, we let the passion build as our hands explored each other, marveling in the sensations. My lips found his, nibbling and sighing as our bodies grew warmer and our touches grew more frantic._

_He rolled me onto my back. I was pressed against the bed by the weight of his body above mine, against mine. I rubbed my legs against his hips. At that moment, my inexperience meant nothing. I was not self-conscious and I was not nervous. Never in my life had anything felt as right as when he pushed himself inside me…slowly, reverently, until we were one being. Alone in our own private universe, we loved. And all the while, I felt joy, completion, and the certain knowledge that I had found the only home I'd ever want._

_Slowly and gently our universe expanded, taking us back to my room, to my bed, as I held onto him and tried to catch my breath, feeling him panting and trying to catch his own. I ran my hands up and down his back in slow, long caresses, and he whispered sweet words of love into my neck. "Sleep here with me, my only love," I said softly into his shoulder. He merely nodded and gathered me into his arms so that my head rested against his chest. I breathed out a deep sigh of love and contentment and, nestling myself into his embrace, slipped back into sleep._

I woke to the sound of rain pelting against my window and the faint splashing sound of cars driving through puddles. Despite the dreary weather, I grinned and stretched. Still living in my dream, I could smell him in the sheets, the pillow . . . on me. I would have given anything to find a way to will myself back into the world of my lover, but it was time to get up, find some food, organize my day. Lifting the covers up, I got out of bed and wandered over to the desk chair and retrieved my robe. My eyes glanced back to my bed for a moment and the robe fell from my hand. There on the rumpled sheets was something that I could not wrap my mind around. There, right in the middle of the bed, was a button from a man's shirt. And right next to it, were three small drops of blood.

_* * *_

EPOV

I opened my eyes and looked out at the woods through the windshield of my car. I couldn't move, I could barely breathe. I looked down at my hands gripping the steering wheel and tried to peel my fingers off it, one by one straightening them until I could do the only thing I truly wanted to do – lift my hands to my face and breathe deeply, breathe in the exquisite scent of freesias mixed with the unadulterated fragrance of arousal. _Her _arousal.

I wanted to go back to her. Back into her arms, her bed, her _body_. I craved the rapture of our love and lust so much that it shut out everything else in my consciousness. Sighing, I closed my eyes. She was my life now, this fantasy of a real human who came alive in my mind almost every night. And now we were more – we were lovers. If my heart could beat it would race with joy and falter with the crushing loss of _her_.

I wanted her, the human, the person, the reality. I wanted to hold her in my real arms, to taste her body with my real lips. I wanted her at my side now, I wanted her at my side forever. I wanted to love her and I wanted to see real love shining back at me from real eyes.

I put my head into my hands and, saturating myself with her scent, I yearned for the only thing that meant anything to me any longer, the only thing I wanted in this excruciatingly long, immortal life.

**A/N:**

**A variety of songs apply to today's chapter. Bella can't stop looking for her dream man everywhere she goes, and she keeps wondering, "How Will He Find Me?" Then she decides to just go ahead and "Fantasize," which leads to "Feel You Like a River," which is, er, self-explanatory, ahem. Anyway… Edward's pretty glum about never holding Bella in real life, so he's "Got Id." **

**Songs for Chapter 9**

17. How Will He Find Me, by the Weepies. For Bella who can't stop looking around corners and in crowds for her dream man.

18. Fantasize, by Liz Phair. For Bella taking matters into her own hands.

19. Feel You Like a River, by Heather Nova. For obvious reasons.

20. I Got Id, by Pearl Jam. This song is also known as "I Got Sh*t." For Edward who just wants to find Bella and hold her in real life.

**You can hear all the songs for this story by visiting the playlist on my profile or at  
****www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Once again, thanks to everyone who is reading this story. Please leave a review and let us know how we're doing. We really want to hear your opinions. Also, remember, the site doesn't let me respond to questions posed by unregistered reviewers, so if you want an answer, go ahead and register. :^)**

**There is a thread for this story on the Twilighted forums. Feel free to come join the discussion. **

**Biggest thanks to my co-author and friend, FantasyMother. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

Chapter 10

**_July 2009_**

_Two bubbles in a crystal bowl appear,  
__Born separately: round the opposing rims  
__Each for awhile in a charmed circle swims,  
__And shuns the other's touch, as if in fear.  
__A gold-fish rising breaks the mimic mere;  
__A thwart tide, traversing the surface, dims  
__The placid water: from the distant brims  
__The bubbles swept together are one sphere!  
__They might have perished singly; might have known  
__Life but not love, and living separate  
__Have ceased imperfect, sundered mate from mate;  
__And thou and I have walked the world alone,  
__And died so, if the strong storm had not blown  
__That swept us hither on the tides of fate. _

BPOV

I set aside the book of obscure poetry by Evelyn Douglas, unsure if reading Victorian sonnets was such a good idea for me right now. Bending down, I grabbed another book out of the box and placed it on the bookshelf in my new apartment.

Sometimes I felt as if I floated through life, finding little meaning in my daytime studies, but taking solace in the arms of my dream lover. Even with this latest change in my life — a research fellowship at the State University of New York at Binghamton — I continued to float along, never engaging much with the people around me, barely leaving an impression in the world outside my dreams.

And I guess I had to admit to myself, that was the reason I didn't get a graduate scholarship to continue at Cornell after finishing my undergraduate studies. The competition for graduate fellowships was fierce and, although my grades were perfect, there was nothing else I could offer. My resume listed no organizations or clubs or teams — nothing to set me apart from the other applicants. I could accept it, I guess. After all, I did get a graduate fellowship, just not at Cornell, and I only had to move about 50 miles south of Ithaca to attend SUNY. It was fine. The cost of living in Binghamton was low, and my stipend would keep me in groceries and in this apartment for a few more years. Plus, all my favorite jazz and classical music haunts would be within driving distance. Life would go on, just in a new place.

Taking the last book from the box, I placed it on the shelf and looked around my new apartment. It was hot today — so hot that I was wearing one of the few skirts in my wardrobe, because jeans would just be too much. After spending all morning unpacking, I was ready for a break. I decided to take a walk, explore one of the quaint footbridges that crossed the Susquehanna River, and see what downtown Binghamton had to offer.

It was prettier than I expected, at least in certain sections of town. Although Binghamton was economically distressed, the city leaders had obviously made an effort at urban renewal in the downtown area, perhaps in the hope that the revitalization would somehow extend out towards the more checkered parts of town. As I walked past the Broome County Arena into downtown proper, I looked around for someplace that might have interesting shops. Looking to my left I saw an anomaly — a cobblestone street with streetlamps designed to mimic the gas lamps of the turn of the century. It seemed like a good place to start.

The street was lined with old 6-story brownstone buildings with shops on the ground floor of each, and tall enough to offer shade on this hot, muggy day. Not that shade really mattered — it was overcast again. Shaking my head, I noted silently that I had managed to land in one of the cloudiest regions of the U.S. In fact, Binghamton is the most cloud-covered of anyplace outside the Pacific Northwest — including Alaska. And, just like Ithaca, Binghamton would have the added bonus of snow. Clouds and snow. _Way to go, Bella_, I thought. _You picked the place most likely to give you_ _seasonal affective disorder_.

Shrugging off my melancholy thoughts I decided to really pay attention to the stores, to see what was available in my new city. An Italian Deli and a Chinese restaurant held promise. There was also a cute consignment clothing shop and an old plumbing supply store that probably hadn't changed in decades. I turned to look across the street and a genuine smile spread across my face. There, actually next door to each other, were exactly the shops I was hoping for. A music store and a book store.

I crossed the cobblestone street and stopped in front of the book store. Even from the outside, the shop gave off a sense of history — old store and old building and old books gracing its lovely display window. I slowly opened the door and was greeted by the tinkling of soft bells tied to the doorknob. A woman behind the counter looked up and gave me a brief smile, looking back down almost immediately to the book in her lap. A kindred soul perhaps? I felt an odd pull towards her and did an uncharacteristic thing. I paused at the counter, gave her a tentative smile and took a deep breath.

"Hello," I said, initiating conversation. "I just moved to town, and I'm really glad to have found your store. I was hoping there would be a good book store here."

She looked up at me, her oddly colored golden eyes appraising me as if she could reach inside and see my soul. She was striking looking — with pale skin and caramel-colored hair — she almost looked like a heroine out of a fairy tale. My heart stuttered for a second and then calmed just as quickly. _What was that about?_

"Well then, welcome to Binghamton," she offered with a smile. "Feel free to take a look around the store and let me know if there is anything I can help you with. If you don't see what you're looking for on the shelves, we can usually special order it."

Before I could reply, I noticed that the shopkeeper's smile fell into a small frown. Her brows drew down as a puzzled look came across her face. "This may sound odd," she said to me, "but have we met before?"

I looked at her more closely. "I don't . . ." I started to answer, still scanning my thoughts to see if anything rang a bell, but nothing registered in my memory. "I don't _think_ so."

"Of course," she said a little too quickly, as if she wanted to retract her initial question. "It must be my mistake." Despite her words, her glittering eyes stayed trained on me.

I felt a blush spread across my face. I was unaccustomed to being scrutinized so intently. "Right," I said a bit nervously, "I do have pretty common features." I'd certainly always thought of myself as plain. "I'll just browse through your shop then . . . It looks like you have a wonderful selection here."

"Yes, yes," she said with a polite wave of her hand. "By all means, have a look around."

I took advantage of her invitation to shift my gaze and escape the intensity of her stare. Moving past the counter, I felt my blush deepen as I realized I had just made more of an effort at socialization than I had in years. I was glad to be safe among the books and away from her golden eyes as I made my way toward the back of the store.

To a bibliophile like me, the store was nothing short of incredible. I looked up in awe at the old, ornate bookcases. The dark wood had a rich patina, and the shelves had cornices and scrollwork that looked hand carved. A metal track went around the circumference of the room to accommodate a tall ladder that leaned against the far wall. Tapestries hung from the ceiling and featured intricately woven scenes of love and battles, although their colors seemed muted, and I guessed they were very old. Looking down I realized the floor was real marble. It was the most magnificent book store I had ever stepped into, here in this dying city in the middle of nowhere — I felt as if I had stepped into a museum.

_Perhaps it is_, I thought to myself, running my hands along the spines of books that were a mix of contemporary and old leather-bound volumes sitting side by side on the heavy shelves. Just being here made me feel happy, as if this was a place that I belonged. I wandered through the amazing store and tried to take it all in, each case surprising me with its contents. Browsing here felt like a treasure hunt. It was as if someone took a library from a medieval castle and transported to this unlikely place and stocked it with some contemporary books to lead us off the trail of the truth.

I giggled to myself, realizing how silly this thought was, when I heard a cough behind me. I turned and once again met the eyes of the striking-looking shop owner.

"Wha— How did . . . ?" I stammered, caught off guard by her sudden appearance. She should not have been able to sneak up on me, the floors were marble — I should have been able to hear her.

"Oh, excuse me, I didn't mean to startle you, dear," she said. "And . . . I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I feel sure that I have met you or smel— excuse me again." Her discomfort was making _me_ uncomfortable. She started over, "So, where did you say you moved here from?"

We both knew that I hadn't said where I'd moved from, but I answered her question anyway, curious to see what she would do or say next. "I moved here from Ithaca."

Judging from her reaction, my answer didn't seem to be what she wanted to hear.

"Not from somewhere farther away? Maybe . . . farther west? Your accent is . . . not from the northeastern United States."

Oh, of course. That was it. An Arizona accent tinged with the northwest from my time in Washington. Nothing like they sound around here.

I laughed lightly. "I see what you're saying. Yes, I'm really last from Washington State, and before that Arizona. I guess I sound different than your local customers." I took a deep breath, glad to have solved her mystery, although . . . something about her still seemed off, different. I was going to try to explore it when she spoke again.

"Right, yes," she said with another polite smile, her eyes still studying my face. "That must be it, of course." She turned to head back towards the front of the store, and that's when it hit me. As she spun around she sent a soft billow of air toward me, and I caught a faint scent. Barely there, but if I took a deep breath I could almost taste it. Just the slightest hint of sun, and honey, and . . .

_No, it couldn't be._

* * *

I was standing on the sidewalk a few stores down, trying to slow my breathing and calm my racing heart. Not for the first time I wondered if this was a mental illness, or worse, a physical condition . . . What if there was a lesion in my brain, or I had undiagnosed epilepsy? Panicked by the possibilities, even more upset at the thought that any treatment might permanently take away my dream lover, I decided to do one last thing to calm myself — I would check out the music store. I'd buy something good, something soothing, walk back to my apartment, finish making my bed and wait for the night.

Decision made, I squared my shoulders and stepped over the threshold of the music store. But before I was even all the way in the door, there it was, stronger than before, permeating the air. _His scent, _the sun and honey so powerful I was convinced if I looked around he'd be standing right next to me.

I spun around, leapt back through the door and ran out to the sidewalk, nearly stumbling into the street — just managing to stop myself as a silver car came speeding around the corner. I barely kept from falling in front of it.

Overwhelmed, I wanted only one thing in that moment — to go home, back to the safety of my apartment. I ran until I felt my lungs would burst and the muscles in my legs would cramp to the point I wouldn't even be able to walk, but somehow I made it without stopping.

Back in my apartment, I fell to the floor, exhausted and at the limit of my emotions. It felt like something was taunting me, constantly dragging bits and pieces of my dreams into real life, just enough to keep me from successfully separating them, leaving me so off balance I could never get a firm handle on what was my dream and what was not. The only constant was my raging desire to find him, _to find a man exactly like him_, to make my dream lover a part of my real life. And all these pieces of my dreams intruding into reality did nothing but force the realization it was unlikely to ever happen. With that thought, I covered my face with my hands and cried deep, despairing sobs.

I curled up, still there on the floor, and wrapped my arms around my knees and shuddered — emotionally spent and intellectually numb — until the world fell away and I felt myself slipping into the welcome oblivion of sleep.

"_What's the matter love?" he whispered as his strong arms enveloped me, pulling me into his lap as he sat down on the floor. I couldn't look up, all I could do was bury my face into his chest and cry, breathing in his scent as if it would save me from drowning. I was overtaken by a need so urgent that it surprised me, but I could not deny it. Bringing my face to his, I kissed him hard. My hands moved up to his hair and I pulled his head closer to mine. I wanted to feel his nose bang against my own, I wanted my tongue as deep as it would go within his mouth. I needed to feel him. Here._

_I'd never felt an urge so raw. I wanted him. Here. Now. I unfastened his pants and shifted my position so that my legs were wrapped around his waist. I was grateful I'd worn a skirt today. I didn't bother taking off any of the rest of our clothes, there was no time. My desperation would not wait. Need ruled my actions. _

_I could tell he was bewildered and surprised, but ready and willing to do whatever I wanted. Still half crying, I brought our bodies together and started moving on top of him. Here. Yes. Hot, quick, urgent. His reached his hands around to my backside and held on tightly as I set a frenetic pace._

_I wove my fingers into his hair and pulled slightly, tilting his head back. I put my lips to his ear and said in an almost growl, "Damn it, why can't you be here?" He moaned and moved upward. Yes. Here._

"_I'm right here, love," he said as he wrapped one arm tightly around my waist and moved a hand up to my shoulder, pulling me down to him._

_A sob escaped my throat. "But you're not," I choked. "You're not really here. I want you here. With me." Our rhythm grew even more urgent. Here. Yes._

_He tightened his grip on me and started kissing my neck, licking the muscles and veins there. I felt a growl rumble through his chest and vibrate through me, all the way to the point where we were connected. "You are everything to me," he said. "I want you all the time." _

"_Then come and find me," I said in a strained voice. The sensations were nearly overtaking me now. Here. Yes. _

_A powerful physical and emotional rush surged through me, and I felt so weightless and formless that I had to cling to his shoulders to keep from falling over. He laid me back on the floor and ran his fingers across my cheek, and leaned down to whisper something in my ear . . . _

A sharp rap at my apartment door woke me. "Ms. Swan? Ms. Swan, are you there?" I heard a voice from the other side of the door. Startled, I stood up, straightened my clothes, and in a daze walked to see who it was. Looking through the peephole I could see the lady from the property management office. She seemed to be holding some papers. I opened the door.

"Oh, good, you're here," she said in a rush. "Finding everything all right? Getting unpacked okay?" Without waiting for my answer, she held out the papers. "Listen, would you fill out these forms and drop them by the rental office when you can? You need to make a record of the current condition of the apartment. It's all self-explanatory, just go around every room of the apartment and jot down any damage that you see, sign the form, and drop it off tomorrow, okay?"

I nodded my assent, and with hastily muttered thanks, she was on her way. I closed the apartment door and turned back into the room where I'd just been with my dream lover.

What had he said before I woke up? I closed my eyes in concentration and tried to reach back to him. Slowly but surely it came to me, and his whispered words rang through my heart, clear as a bell . . .

"_Yes. I will find you. No matter what it takes, I will find you, my love."_

**A/N:**

**"Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town" is for our golden-eyed book store owner who can't figure out how she knows Bella. Bella's got other things on her mind as the chapter moves on, though, because she wants her dream lover to "Stay With Me," and you might agree that she's pretty insistent about it. She's ready to "Find a Way." **

**Songs for Chapter 10**

21. Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town, by Pearl Jam. Because hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away.

22. Stay with Me, by Dolores O'Riordan. For Bella's insistent words uttered in her dream lover's ear.

23. I'll Find a Way, by Rachael Yamagata. Because Bella's ready to find a way to see her dream man.

**You can hear all the songs for this story by visiting the playlist on my profile or at  
****www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Would you believe this story has had thousands of hits, but under 30 reviews? Please leave a review and let us know what you think. :^)**

**Also, check out the Indie TwiFic Awards at www[dot]theindietwificawards[dot]com. ****It's a place to recognize your favorite stories that don't have a lot of reviews. ****Nominations close tonight (June 25), so get your nominations in asap!**

**Next chapter will be posted tomorrow.**

**Thanks as ever to my co-author and friend, FantasyMother, and thanks to everyone who is reading and enjoying this story. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

Chapter 11

_**September 2009**_

EPOV

"_Yes. I will find you. No matter what it takes, I will find you, my love." _

My thoughts once again drifted to that encounter from two months ago, when she'd needed me so urgently that she made love to me on the floor and made me promise to find her. I still didn't know what to make of it. We had obviously grown physically closer in my fantasies, but something had shifted. Even though I knew she was just a fantasy, she was so _vivid_. Her actions often took me by surprise, none more so than this particular encounter that I could not stop replaying over and over. I was delighted every time she did something unanticipated, and full of despair when she was sorrowful. And I had no explanation for any of it.

All I could think was that I had a heretofore unknown aspect of the vampire brain, a layer that operated independently of the rest, similar to automatic brain functions yet quite different — because it wove a reality all on its own. Once again, I wished I could talk to Carlisle about it, but that was out of the question. I wasn't prepared to share the details of my secret life with anyone, not even Carlisle.

I had isolated myself more and more from my family since my fantasies had become so important to me. I was aware they all knew that something unusual was happening with me, but they never asked about it. Now and again, they would give me curious looks then immediately change their thoughts so that I could not read what they had been thinking. I was both frustrated and relieved not to be privy to these thoughts. As I had learned quite intimately in the past few years, privacy is precious — especially in one's mind. Guarding my own privacy gave me a new perspective on my ability to listen in on theirs, and I tried even harder to give them the respect they deserved.

And, if anything important needed to be known, I was certain Alice would tell me.

With nothing else to distract me, I thought more and more of my love. I struggled with what to do about the promise I'd given her in my fantasy. I knew that somewhere out there, a real human existed who looked exactly like her, and whose blood sang to me. For her own safety, and to protect my family's secrecy, years ago I had decided I could never have this woman in my real life. But as my fantasies about her grew, so did my longing for her. That much was obvious, as even my fantasy — my own mind — was crying out for me to find her.

I decided to simply try to find out her name. That seemed harmless. I looked on a class reunion website which advertised prolifically on the Internet, but it didn't lead me anywhere. So many names could have been hers.

But then I had a stroke of luck. I found a Forks High School Class of 2005 yearbook on an online auction site. I was surprised something so obscure was for sale, considering how few might find it of interest. Other than me, of course. The day the yearbook arrived I took the package up to my room, closing the door behind me so that the rest of the family couldn't see what I had. I flipped through each page until I found her, smiling shyly at me from a small black and white photo.

_Isabella Swan.  
__Salutatorian. National Honor Society. Awarded four-year full scholarship to Cornell University._

I let the yearbook slip from my fingers and fall to the floor as the information sunk in. She had attended college not 50 miles from where I sat.

Where was she now?

BPOV

Time trudged along and I floated through it. My dream lover and his promise to find me were the only things I lived for, because as important as the dreams were to me, I desperately yearned for more. I knew it was crazy and yes, I knew he was probably just a by-product of some kind of dysfunction in my brain, but still I prayed every day for this wonderful, tender, loving man to find his way into my waking life. Dream or real, he was what I wanted. And god, I yearned for him to be real and to hold me in his arms and kiss me in waking life. More than anything, I yearned to see his face. I had felt the contours of his magnificent body, and I had sensed the depths of his soul, but I had never seen his face. I knew him, I loved him, yet I didn't know what he looked like, and that was almost more maddening than the knowledge he didn't really exist.

* * *

Before long, the summer break came to an end and school started. My graduate classes weren't too exciting, but it was only the first semester of my master's coursework. I was sure it would get more interesting once I chose the subject of my thesis. But for now, as part of my fellowship, I had to do research time in the lab. "Boring" looked downright exciting next to my research: I had to categorize the locomotive possibilities of various species of slime mould. No one else wanted to do it, and I was the low person on the totem pole, so the task fell to me. The only advantage was it gave me the lab to myself most of the time. And to my relief, I had not yet needed to hide from the likes of another Mike Newton since I arrived at SUNY. I was back in a familiar pattern of solitude and academic study. _My comfort zone_, I thought to myself wryly.

It was a few weeks into the semester when I was taking my usual route to the university. The days in Binghamton remained endlessly cloudy, but on this day there was also a hint of crispness in the air that reminded me I'd better enjoy the last of the temperate weather before the snow season started. I was musing over the imminent onset of winter when the car in front of me slowed, and then came to a stop. _Just what I needed before_ _classes _—_ a traffic jam._ Looking ahead, I noticed road construction and detour signs. Gah.

Inching along, my car reached the flag man who was directing cars onto a side street. I rolled down my window and asked, "How long is this detour going to be in place?"

"At least a month, they're digging new trenches and then they have to pave," the unshaven man answered. _Uh oh_. "Thanks," I muttered and rolled up my window. I rejoined the flow of traffic, gripping the steering wheel just a little tighter than before.

The change from my normal route unnerved me. Having everything mapped precisely was the best way for me to deal with a new city and keep my inclination to panic in check. The detour took me onto a street I'd never been down, and I cursed under my breath. "Detour" usually meant "Bella gets lost" in my world. I didn't want to get turned around somewhere and wind up late for class.

But as I drove I was relieved to see that the detour was well marked. I was on a nice, tree-lined, residential street, nothing to be nervous about. I spotted a sign for Binghamton High School, and I could even see the student parking lot from the street. It was after 9 am, so the lot was full. As I drove by, I noticed a particular car, and suddenly a vivid series of memories cascaded through my mind. Six years ago, Forks High, first day, a strange student who made me feel . . . _hated_. His sudden anger at me for no reason — no, not anger but _fury_. His running out of the classroom and into a car and speeding away . . .

And that's when I realized what I was looking at. A silver Volvo with dark tinted windows. It looked exactly as I remembered his car. Exactly.

I shook my head and focused once again on the traffic. A car is a car is a car. No question there had to have been thousands of that year and model and color made. Not even a coincidence, just a car and a jogged memory. I laughed at my absurdity and continued my commute to the university.

* * *

My solitary life continued. I spent almost every night in the arms of my dream lover, and started each morning with my now-detoured drive to SUNY. Every day when I drove past the high school, I looked for the Volvo. I knew it was silly but I couldn't shake it. I actually started looking forward to my morning drive on this new route. It was as if seeing the car was some sort of anchor for me, something that grounded me in a way I couldn't understand.

And I needed extra grounding lately, because I had started to catch the scent of my dream lover all through the city — sometimes on the street, sometimes in shops. I finally reached the point that I didn't panic and run from it as I had done that first day, but I knew now there was definitely something wrong with me. I strongly suspected it was undiagnosed epilepsy, but as long as the symptoms were merely olfactory hallucinations and not outright seizures, I'd deal with it. I had an unshakeable feeling that if I sought medical intervention, I would lose the lover from my dreams. So I tried to convince myself it was an emotional problem, not a physical one. I told myself that encountering the scent wherever I went, _his_ particular scent, must be related to some kind of subconscious desire. I rationalized how his scent could extend beyond my dreams — it was my subconscious reminding me that I should be searching for a man who could give me in real life what my imagination gave me when I slept.

And sometimes, hesitantly, I thought back to that time in Ithaca by the gorge. I remembered my fears, my loneliness, and the intervention by _something_ — I don't know what — that seemed to change the course of my dreams and allowed me to empower myself in them. The dreams weren't enough, but now I had some control in them. They had become my life.

I also acknowledged the possibility that whatever I saw that day by the gorge was as much a product of mental illness as my dreams, but since it seemed to have helped me that night, I didn't question it too closely. I had reached a point where I could rationalize most of the peculiarities of my life, applying a scientific method of reasoning where it was convenient, and ignoring the inexplicable where it was not.

And so I coped. Ignoring my own inconsistencies kept me stable, or at least allowed me to venture outside my apartment without fear of additional panic attacks. If the worst that happened was having my senses infused with the scent of my dream lover, well, I could live with that.

* * *

It was a Tuesday, about two weeks after the detour started, and I had left the SUNY campus early. That meant I was driving past Binghamton High School at the same time the students were getting out for the day. Traffic came to a near standstill as cars streamed out of the school parking lot. _Great, _I thought, _remember never to drive this way at this time of day again_. Trapped in the gridlock I tried to be patient with the kids honking and shouting at each other as they squealed their tires and blasted their stereos. Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I glanced over towards where the Volvo was usually parked.

_Oh. My. God_.

I could not believe what I saw. _It was him_. The guy from my high school in Forks was standing at the open driver's door of the Volvo. I was sure of it. It wasn't just a close resemblance. _It was the_ _same guy_.

And standing by the passenger door was the girl. _The dark-haired girl_ who sat at the cafeteria table with him and the others all those years ago.

My mouth fell open as I hit the brakes and just stopped in the middle of the street, gawking at the two of them. It had been _six years. _And here they were, still in high school, looking _exactly the same_. She had different clothes but his jacket . . . I could have sworn his jacket was the same one I saw him wear as he ran out to his car that day six years ago in Forks.

This couldn't be possible; this simply could not be possible. They had not aged. It was as if the fabric of time had ripped and they both stepped through from 2003 and into 2009. A strange noise came out of my throat as I gasped in shock.

Suddenly, the guy's eyes grew wide and his mouth opened as if he were startled. His head shot up like someone had called to him, but instead of looking at someone else, his eyes locked on mine.

And in that moment all time ceased, all movement around us froze, leaves stopped falling and cars stopped moving and all sound went silent. All I could see were his intense eyes trained on mine, and my heartbeat went into overdrive as I knew this was the most pivotal moment of my life without having a clue why.

He broke eye contact and turned towards the girl he was with. She had collapsed and slumped to the ground. An unseen switch flipped and suddenly cars started moving, leaves started falling, sound rushed in again.

The spell of his gaze broken, I turned away. Every muscle in my body was shaking, but I managed to drive a block up and pull over. I couldn't think straight. None of this made sense. _It was six years later for god's sake_. It couldn't be him. It must be a relative, a cousin or a nephew who had been given the car and the jacket as hand-me-downs. Right, a relative. That would explain it.

But it didn't explain my pounding heart, or the continuing surge of adrenaline, or the magnetic pull of his eyes.

And it didn't explain the beautiful shock of unruly bronze hair whose texture I knew as well as I knew my own.

EPOV

I broke eye contact, trembling and trying to regain rational thought. _Focus right now. Focus_. Alice! _Alice had collapsed_. I ran to her and lifted her into the car.

I had never seen her like this. "Alice, what's wrong?" She lifted her head slowly, looking dazed, reeling from the impact of a vision she was studiously blocking from me.

"Talk to me Alice! What did you see?" I reached into her mind and . . . nothing at first and then what looked like a swirl of stars, the Milky Way on a clear night and then . . . nothing again.

"Edward, drive away from here now. Let's go home," she whispered, refusing to look at me, keeping her thoughts clear, and looking as ill as a vampire could.

Running back to the driver's door I got in and got us moving as quickly as I could without looking overly conspicuous. My chest was still heaving in shock as I pointed the car towards home. I needed to get Alice to Jasper, and I was desperate for some time alone to deal with what I just saw. Shutting out everything else, I concentrated on my driving and my destination.

By the time we pulled up to the house Alice seemed to have fully regained her senses and was simply gazing out the window, appearing calm. Yet every time I attempted to read her thoughts she was translating Shakespeare into Sanskrit, preventing me from viewing what she had seen in the parking lot. I didn't think she had seen Isabella Swan or my reaction, so it had to have just been the vision that caused her collapse, but I had never known Alice to so relentlessly refuse to share her visions with me.

Ironically, almost as if she could read _my_ mind, Alice turned to me and wanly smiled. "Don't let it bother you Edward, I saw something unexpected and it startled me a bit. I just had an overreaction, that's all. It's probably been too long since I've hunted. I'm fine now, really." She smiled again, effectively ending the conversation. I knew she was not telling me everything, but there was nothing more I could do or say to get her to talk. The coincidence was too great, but I trusted Alice. Whatever she was keeping from me, she had her reasons. And I had other pressing priorities at the moment . . . My room. Privacy. Stay calm. _Isabella Swan._

Once in the house, I went immediately to my room, closed and locked the door and put a Debussy CD in the stereo. Surrounded by the music, I gave myself over to the joy and shock of what I had just seen.

_It was Isabella. There was no mistaking her. She was HERE. How, why, I had no idea. I only knew that I had seen Isabella today . . . beautiful, vibrant Isabella Swan. _

I wanted to leap out my window and run . . . run for the exhilaration of it, run until I could find a place where I could laugh and celebrate and give voice to my euphoria. The person I saw today was not a fantasy, not a figment of my elaborate imagination, but the living, breathing girl — no, a woman now — staring at me with as much shock in her eyes as I felt, and with as much recognition. Or at least I wanted to think so. But could she have recognized me so quickly? We shared only two glances 6 years ago, and she was human — surely she would not have remembered me so clearly.

But it did not matter, not right now, maybe not ever. My fantasies had barely done her justice, her beauty was ethereal. Her high cheekbones and full lips . . . her eyes, oh, her eyes were even more captivating than I had remembered. Mysterious and deep pools that drew me in, and they now contained the wisdom of a woman. The passage of time had only magnified her beauty and the unearthly attraction she held to me.

And then it hit me, the reality that this woman now lived in the same city as me. No wonder I had detected the scent of freesia all over town. It wasn't a hidden garden, it was _Isabella_. She was actually here — living around me, close to me, within striking distance of me and — I realized with a jolt of excitement — within _touching_ distance of me.

_I found her!_ My whole being sang with the knowledge of it.

But soon my breathing became erratic as I thought of the implications of pursuing something outside my fantasies. Could I? Dare I? Perhaps to be no more than her friend, or even less . . . Should I just watch her, unseen, as she shopped, as she walked around town, always keeping myself at a safe distance, but bathing in her glory if only for moments at a time? I looked down at my hands. They were trembling. Finding her was the thing I desired the most, and yet it was the thing that could drive me mad. She had the most tempting blood I had ever encountered, but she was the personification of the love of my life. I lowered my head into my shaking hands. My entire being yearned to be near her, but . . . would the monster let her live?

The disarray of my own thoughts frustrated me. I needed to think, to plan, _something! _

Taking a deep breath I realized the first step — although it might turn out to be the only step — had to be desensitization. If I could not get my bloodlust for her under control, things would end before I ever knew her, and potentially end badly. Now that I had seen her car, it would be a simple matter to follow her, discover where she lived. Perhaps a few visits to her home when she was not home would be a start — spending time immersed in her scent while she was safely absent. In addition, I could take a small article of her clothing — something that she wouldn't miss — and keep it near me all the time. If I could grow accustomed to her scent, I might begin to control my craving for her blood.

It was a start at least. A plan. Temporarily satisfied, I closed my eyes and saw her face again — that lovely face I saw today, this wondrous, impossible day. And tonight, when everyone else was otherwise occupied, I would go to her — my fantasy improved with new knowledge — and I would love her as never before.

And I would love her knowing there was a chance, no matter how small, that one day it would not just be my imagination holding her in my arms.

**A/N:**

**One of the first things FantasyMother and I discussed when we started kicking around ideas for this story was having Bella drive by a high school and see Edward, unchanged and still a student several years after their first encounter in Forks. In fact, in our earliest ideas, this would have been Chapter 2, not Chapter 11. Please leave a review and let us know what you think -- I'm really eager to know. **

**Songs for Chapter 11**

24. Young Love, by the Mystery Jets. For Edward, and for the lyric, "if I only knew your name I'd go from door to door."

25. I Remember, by Lisa Hannigan and Damien Rice. I picked the song for Bella's memory of Edward in Forks-- and only for the first half of the song featuring Lisa Hannigan. But listen to the whole thing if you like.

26. Right Here, Right Now, by Fatboy Slim. For the dreamy quality of the music. I could see the leaves swirling and then everything freezing when E/B lock eyes during the instrumental portions of this song.

27. Been So Long, by Vetiver. For the hypnotic, repetitive quality of this song. I could listen to it on a loop for this chapter.

**You can hear all the songs for this story by visiting the playlist on my profile or at  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Biggest thanks to my co-author and friend, FantasyMother. **

**We should be back with chapter updates next week, M-F, if all goes according to plan. :^D**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

Chapter 12

_**September 2009**_

BPOV

Luckily, my apartment was only a short distance from Binghamton High School. Had it been any farther, I'm not sure I would have made it back in one piece. I ran through the front door, dropped my bag and started pacing. Like a live wire, I shook with raw energy. My body pulsed with adrenaline, my mind spun with too many questions. I was about to lose it.

_Settle down,_ I admonished myself. _You are a scientist — act like one. _I needed to look at this logically, stop reacting emotionally, take each item and examine it. I forced myself to sit down and think.

Okay, first item: I needed answers. If there wasn't a reasonable explanation for this, it would be the last straw — the final proof that I was certifiably insane. Because as much as I might try to deny it, I _knew_ he was the same guy from Forks six years ago. It was _him_.

Frustrated, I took a deep breath and let it out. Logic said it was not possible that some guy from my high school _six years ago_ would turn up here, looking exactly the same, wearing exactly the same jacket, with exactly the same friend, driving exactly the same car, and still be in high school. It was too crazy, even for me.

I knew I had to get to the bottom of this, and that meant I was going to have to find a way to talk to him. But the fact that he was evidently in high school made the situation even more complicated. I couldn't approach him at the school — god, there were probably laws against that kind of thing — but still, I had to have answers. I'd have to find some other way.

I closed my eyes and my thoughts drifted to images of his distinctive, bronze-colored hair . . . but I didn't want to think about that too hard. I knew that hair. I ran my fingers through it every night in my dreams. Did I just _happen_ to remember his hair from that brief encounter all those years ago, so much that I made it a characteristic of my dream lover? It must have impressed me at the time . . . although I don't remember actually _having _that thought six years ago. Still, it was the easiest explanation. It was the _only_ explanation.

These days, I latched onto to explanations wherever I could, because if I thought too hard, I'd find myself mired in the inexplicable anomalies from my dream life. The scent I now caught all over town. The blood on the sheets. The button. The indentations on my pillow and mattress. Although not foolproof, the explanations I had come up with for all of these things were good enough to lock them all up in a compartment so that they didn't strengthen the nagging feeling that somewhere, under all of this, I was completely of my mind.

And now I had another enigma to deal with, separate and apart from my dreams. This guy from my high school was a _fact_, not a figment of my imagination, and not an apparition in my dreams. He was a living, breathing _real _mystery that could be solved. Surely there was a simple explanation for his unchanged appearance, for the fact that he was still in high school. There must be an easy explanation. There just had to be . . . _didn't there?_

One thing I knew for sure. He had absolutely nothing to do with my dreams.

* * *

Two weeks later, I had still not managed to find a way to talk to him.

It was a Saturday, and I was back on the cobblestone street, looking through the bookstore window at the latest release from my favorite contemporary author. I wanted to buy it, even though I was on a tight budget. I opened the door of the shop, heard the familiar tinkling of the doorknob bells, and stepped inside.

As soon as I drew my next breath it hit me. _Hard_.

I stopped, closed my eyes for a moment and willed myself to be calm. _It's only a hallucination_. I took deep and controlled breaths and remained composed as the scent moved through me. It was stronger than my dreams, stronger than that time in the music store, more distinct than I'd been picking up around town lately. Today the scent was somehow sharper, more . . . erotic, and I felt a moment of panic that my illness was worsening. But there had been no seizures, not a single sign of even a petit mal incident. _It's your subconscious. Ignore it, it's not really there._ I took another deep breath and walked towards the hardcover fiction section to grab a copy of the book.

And there he was.

He was standing at the back of the store with a book in his hand. When I approached, he raised his head and looked at me, nostrils flaring and chest heaving and . . . then he seemed to just freeze in place, not moving a muscle. For a moment I could swear the only thing about him that seemed alive was his eyes — golden eyes boring into mine with fear and apprehension and a trace of something else I couldn't identify.

This was it, this was my opportunity. Bracing myself, I walked right up to him, literally trapping him in a tight corner of shelves. When I got closer, he avoided my gaze and his eyes darted around like he was looking for a means of escape. _Not so fast, you. I want some answers._

"You were in my biology class years ago in high school, weren't you?"

I blurted my question like an accusation, nerves making me sound more confrontational than I meant to be. His eyes grew wide as he stood motionless in front of me — I swear he wasn't even breathing.

He was looking down, to the side, behind me, anywhere but at me. "No," he said, a little too emphatically. "I'm sorry, you must be mistaken. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get this book for my class."

Before I could offer a comeback, I started to lose my clarity of thought. I felt dazed, lulled in his presence. I was drawn to his golden eyes, his voice like velvet, even the scent that flowed off him in waves — my mind accepted it and did not even wonder why he was the source of the scent that was so familiar to me. I could feel my heart skip, my body reacting to this guy I didn't know. He was taller than I'd remembered, his face as handsome as an angel's. My eyes were starting to feel heavy and my head feeling light when a movement caught my attention and pulled me back to reality.

He was trying to walk around me.

Regaining my senses, I held my ground and blocked his way. "I'm not mistaken. You look exactly like someone I knew in Washington State."

He squinted his eyes into a wince, looking almost like he was in pain. "It wasn't me. I've never been to For— . . . I've never been west of the— " He was stammering. "Excuse me, I have to go."

He sidestepped me and walked away.

I stood there stunned. He was about to say "Forks" before he stopped himself, and by the look of panic on his face, he realized his mistake. But before I could react he slipped away, darting up the aisle and around a bookcase, leaving me to simply stare after him. I watched as he walked to the front of the store, obviously in a hurry to leave. I saw the store owner whisper something to him, put his book in a bag, and hand it to him.

I was still staring at the front of the store when I heard the deep creaking of old wood moving. It was coming from the next aisle over. I peered through an open spot in the bookcases that separated the aisles and gasped in horror at what I saw. A child was climbing up a bookcase, and had made it up to the fifth shelf when her weight caused the old and massively heavy case to slowly tilt forward. In a moment it would come down on top of her and there was no way the child would survive it!

And suddenly, before I could even scream for help, he was there. _How did he get back here so fast? _He grabbed the child and scooted her across the floor, sliding her safely away while he braced his back against the teetering bookcase.

The case was solid hardwood, at least ten feet tall, and loaded with books. It had to have weighed a thousand pounds, minimum, and it was now coming down on him. A few hardcover books began to rain down on his head and shoulders as the shelf fell further forward. He was going to be crushed; he was as defenseless as the child against its weight.

Unable to look away, I stood and watched the scene play out from my undetected position in the next aisle. As I stared, I saw him do something . . . _impossible. _He deftly spun around, reached wide and grabbed the bookcase, lifting it a good foot and a half off the ground. Holding it mid-air, he carefully shifted it so it was upright once more, then gently placed it back on the floor in its original location. It rocked and creaked for a moment before it was still. The whole maneuver took him all of about four seconds.

Neither strained nor winded, he stood there, calm in the midst of chaos, his eyes on the bookcase, making sure it remained stable. I was transfixed, not believing what I had seen, trying to process it so it might make sense. But nothing was making sense, nothing _could_ make sense. No one should have been able to lift that bookcase the way he did.

It was then that he turned around and saw me.

We locked eyes, and it was just like it had been that day in front of the high school — all sound stopped, all movement stopped, everything grew still and the rest of the world fell away as we stared at each other, each unable to look away from the other's eyes, as we both silently acknowledged what was happening and neither of us had any power to prevent it.

It could have been minutes or merely seconds, but he abruptly jerked his gaze away from me. Before I could say a word, he turned and ran to the front of the store, and when I heard the tinkling of the door bells I knew he was gone.

Still dazed, I looked back to where he had just lifted the bookcase, saving the child and himself from certain death. And there, on the floor, was the book he had purchased, still in its bag, obviously discarded in his haste to right the bookcase and get away from me. Very quickly and discreetly, I slipped over to the other aisle, reached down, picked up his book, and put it in my backpack. I don't know what made me do it, but in that moment I just wanted something that was _his_.

Shouldering my backpack, I walked to the front of the store and saw the shop owner looking at the front door, the doorknob bells still swaying back and forth. When she turned and looked at me, I noticed once again her oddly colored golden eyes. _Just like his_.

"Who _was _that?" I couldn't help asking her. I'd never been so curious about anything in all my life.

"That was my son," she said. And then she walked away, leaving me dumbstruck once again.

EPOV

I was a good ten miles down the road before I pulled over and stopped the car. So much had just happened. She had been standing there, right there, in front of me — closer than I'd ever seen her. Her huge brown eyes, her alabaster skin, her long silky hair, her beautiful body and the scent of her blood — she was nothing like my fantasies yet exactly like my fantasies. Everything about her was exponentially more potent, more vibrant than in my imagination. Mercifully, although the bloodlust was there, it was not overpowering this time. Instead I was hit with wave after wave of raw lust and love for this woman. It was everything I could do to stop my breathing in the bookstore, to freeze my muscles and stop my trembling. She was right there, inches in front of me, all I had to do was reach out . . .

And then I made my first mistake — I nearly said Forks — and she noticed it. I might as well have confessed, because she knew what I had been about to say, there could be no denying it. Perhaps that could be handled; long life and slow aging was not necessarily anything supernatural.

But then I made the biggest mistake I had made in over 90 years. I let a human see me do something I should not be able to do. I thought I was so careful, that no one was looking — and dammit I _had_ to stop the child from being crushed. But Isabella saw me lift the bookcase, its weight completely insignificant to me.

I groaned, holding my head in my hands while I tried to divine a way out of this. If she talked, if she learned what I am, and if _they_ got wind of it, her life would be forfeit. I could not allow that to happen. Now that I'd found her I knew I would not survive if anything happened to her.

I reached across to the glove box and opened it, pulling out the blue scarf and raising it to my lips and then to my nose, breathing deeply. This innocent-looking scarf was what kept her alive today. It had worked.

My mind was already spinning with next phase of my plan.

**A/N:**

**Major thanks to jedigirlsc for being such a great supporter of PTD. **

**There have been some questions about the timeline. Although some of the dates on the chapters may be in the future for _us_, Bella and Edward are in their own present day. They're not time traveling. The dates are mainly there to establish that it has been six years since they first saw each other in Forks. **

**Songs for Chapter 12**

28. Easier to Lie, by Aqualung. Because Edward just can't tell Bella the truth.

29. Superman, by Five for Fighting. For Edward lifting the bookcase and then feeling like it was a huge mistake.

**You can hear all the songs for this story by visiting the playlist on my profile or at  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Biggest thanks to my co-author and friend, FantasyMother. ****We plan to post a chapter every weekday this week, M-F. **

**Please leave a review.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

Chapter 13

_**September 2009**_

BPOV

The new release that had brought me into the bookstore today was long forgotten by the time I got back to my apartment. I couldn't wrap my mind around what had happened. He had lied to me — and badly at that — by denying that he was the same person from that brief encounter years ago at Forks High. Then he lifted that heavy bookcase. Who _was _this guy? He was acting like some kind of reluctant superhero out of a cheesy comic book. Could he leap tall buildings in a single bound, too? Did he have on a spandex suit underneath his street clothes? It just didn't add up . . .

Or did it? _God, Bella, you and your imagination again. _Of course it added up. He probably just had an adrenaline rush. Anyone probably could have done what he did with the bookcase. Folklore said that people can do superhuman feats and lift the heaviest of objects to save a life. And the more I thought about the way the bookshelf was tilting, the more I realized it probably didn't take superhuman strength to push it back in place, especially when one applies basic physics concepts about fulcrums and levers . . . No, that must be it. Adrenaline rush, weight made easier to lift by leverage, all easily explained.

And what had he said . . . ? Oh, right. He was there to get a book for _one of his_ _classes_. Again, my imagination was getting the best of me. He had to be a _teacher_ at the high school, not a _student_. So what if he looked like he did in high school? Heck, I still looked younger than my age and had to show my I.D. whenever I bought a bottle of wine. Yes, that had to be it. He was a teacher. _Duh_.

But he had definitely lied about knowing me from Forks, even though I knew that he recognized me. _Ouch_. Because that, too, was easily explained, wasn't it? I mean, he was gorgeous after all, and I was, well, _me_. He was just blowing me off. Of course.

I burned with rejection when I thought about how handsome he was. I remembered thinking in high school that he looked different and he didn't seem to fit in, isolating himself from others the same way I did. But until today I hadn't really focused on the perfection of his face — his golden eyes with long lashes, his strong jaw, his chiseled cheekbones, his strong aristocratic nose, his well-defined lips . . .

He was so out of my league, even thinking about him was embarrassing. _This is reality Bella_. _You'd only find someone like that wanting you in your dreams_.

The irony didn't escape me.

I glanced down at the floor and saw the corner of the book he left behind sticking out of my backpack. I supposed I ought to return it to him and get it over with. It wasn't like it would be out of my way to drop it off at the high school; I drove by there every day anyway. But now that it was painfully obvious he didn't want anything to do with me, it would be mortifying to approach him again. So I would just drop it off at the front office, and not leave my name. Simple.

* * *

_Deep breath, Bella_, I told myself as I pulled into the visitor parking space in front of the high school on Monday morning. _Just get in there, drop the book off, and get out. _

I had come early so as not to be late for my own first class at the university, but here on the high school campus, teachers and students were streaming in, arriving to begin their school day.

As I stepped onto the front walk leading to the school's main double doors, a chilly breeze whipped around me. I zipped up my jacket and wished for the umpteenth time in several days that I knew where I had mislaid my blue scarf. I could have used it on a day like today when the wind sent a chill down my neck.

Entering the school's main door I followed the sign that said, "Front Office" with an arrow pointing to the right. Just a few steps further and I was in the administrative offices.

I approached the woman sitting behind the counter. "Good morning. I need to drop something off for one of your teachers."

"Oh?" she said, looking up. "What is it?"

"It's a book." I pulled it out of my backpack and laid it on the counter. I realized then that I had not even opened the paper bag to see what book it was. I had been so stung by his rejection that I just wanted to get rid of the book and move on. "It belongs to Mr. . . ." I stopped short, realizing that I didn't even know his name.

"It belongs to one of your youngest teachers . . . a man, he's probably only been teaching about a year. He's around six-foot-two, light brown hair . . . um, his mother owns the local bookstore?" I ended with an inquisitive tone, hoping the woman would be able to identify him from my description so I could get out of here.

Just then I looked out the window. I felt my face flush as I saw the man himself stepping out of his silver Volvo in the parking lot and making his way toward the building. "That's him, right there," I said, pointing.

The woman followed my gaze out the window and then quickly turned back to me. Her expression had changed from one of helpfulness to one of suspicion. "My dear, that's no teacher, that is a _student_. And I'm afraid unless you're a parent or a guardian, I'll have to ask you to leave."

I barely heard anything she said after the word "_student_." My ears were ringing with it. _Oh my god. It's as bad as you first thought. He's still in high school. He hasn't aged. Why?_ My thoughts were spinning. _Not now, Bella, just get out of here._

Feeling numb, I nodded, put the book into my backpack, and mumbled, "I understand, thank you," before walking out of the front office. I just wanted to leave before things got any more awkward.

With my eyes downcast, I was walking quickly back to my car when I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Looking up, I knew who I would see before I saw him. _So much for hoping things don't get more awkward_. He was there, just ten feet from me, frozen where he stood, staring at me. His expression bore the unspoken question, "What are you _doing _here?" And I didn't have an answer, not for him and not for myself. My face was burning so much I could only imagine how red it was. I had never been so embarrassed.

This time it was me who broke the stare. I bolted for my car and jumped in it, hastily driving away. I didn't look back.

* * *

For the rest of the day I tried not to think about him, but it was hard not to. Who was he? What was he trying to hide by still being in high school? Was he a fugitive? In the witness protection program? Whatever his story, it was plain that he didn't want anything to do with me.

When my day finally came to a close, I was never more ready to give myself over to my dreams . . . and to the man who loved me there.

EPOV

I drove to the field, turned off the car and sat for a while staring at the ring of trees surrounding the clearing. A single thought had continuously echoed in my mind again and again all day long. _What was she doing at the school today?_ My yearning for her burned through me like a raging fire.

The expression on her face today had puzzled me. She looked at once astonished, embarrassed, and most of all, sad and defeated. I didn't need to read her mind to see the disappointment in her face, in her eyes. And no matter how many different ways I turned it around in my mind I could not find an answer to the question — _How could this woman look as sad, in the same way, evoking the same sense of loss, as my fantasy version of her? How could the reality match the fantasy? _With a sigh, I admitted to myself that there were no easy answers to anything any longer.

It was quiet tonight, the air damper than usual, and I felt charged with anticipation. I took out her blue silk scarf and held it to my face, smelling her delicious and complex aroma and brushing the soft texture of the silk across my cheeks, across my eyes, across my lips. Finally I wrapped it around my neck, and holding it close to my chin I leaned back and closed my eyes and thought of Isabella as she looked today. If I could do nothing else, perhaps I could give some joy to the fantasy version of my love.

_She was sleeping peacefully, lying on her side with her hands drawn to her cheek, her profile illuminated by the bit of moonlight from the window. I gazed down at her soft features, noting the difference six years had made in her exquisite beauty. Her features had matured, her eyelashes thick and lush, the spattering of freckles on her cheeks gone as the porcelain skin reclaimed that last bit of childishness. Her hair was longer, thicker, with streaks of red in unexpected places as it cascaded in tendrils around her pillow, her shoulders, and across the blanket covering her beautiful breasts._

_Smiling, I took the silk scarf and gently stroked her cheek, allowing the fabric to place butterfly kisses along her smooth skin, knowing in a moment my lips would replace that fabric, and I would feel the warm ivory texture, breathe in the raw essence of this woman I loved, this woman I worshipped._

_Her eyelids started to flutter as she turned her head towards me, now opening wide as she stared at my face as if searching for something, but she was smiling, loving, drawing me immediately to her, and without thinking, as a moth drawn to her flame I leaned over and touched my lips to hers . . . softly breathing on them as I closed my eyes . . . gently kissing her, tasting her. The smooth texture of her lips against mine ignited my passion and her scent inflamed me. I lost all reason and wrapped my arms around the naked skin of her back and crushed her to my mouth, crushed her to my chest trying to meld her to me, trying to make myself one with her. I wanted to crawl inside her soul and receive the absolution only she could grant._

_Her arms snaked around my neck and her fingers went into my hair and she held on tightly, pulling me closer to her as she whimpered into my mouth echoing my need and desire and desperation to feel, to love, to join, to lose ourselves in each other for all eternity. I gently broke the kiss and leaned back, sliding the blanket down off her body, needing to see the goddess before me shimmering in the moonlight. Her chest was heaving, her firm breasts and taut nipples catching the light and shadows. Staring at her narrow waist and the lush flair of her hips I was frozen in indecision, because I didn't know if I wanted to look or touch or taste — I wanted all of them at once._

_Trembling, trying to hold the moment in my mind, I took the scarf and let it caress her breasts, sliding it over her nipples, hiding them, revealing them, as her back arched and her breathing indicated her pleasure at the sensation of the cool soft silk as it stroked her skin. Suddenly jealous of the fabric I lowered my lips to her breast and took her nipple into my mouth while stroking her other breast with the palm of my hand. Her sweet taste was my own personal heaven, and I lost myself in her as she softly moaned, arching her back to push me further, allowing me to take her further._

_I slid the scarf under her lower back, grabbed both ends and lifted her with it, bringing her to me, bringing those beautiful breasts up as I sat up and leaned over with wet open mouthed kisses trying to consume the very extract that made her the woman that had captivated my soul. She dropped her head back allowing her hair to spill down her shoulders, down her back, fanning out on the pillows behind her, exposing her neck which beckoned to me as irresistibly as her breasts. I moaned, unable to fight her allure as I trailed my tongue up her breast, to her collarbones, to her neck — the source of her essence as I buried my nose against her and breathed deeply, drinking in her scent but nothing else._

"_Lover, now," she whispered, reaching up to unbutton my shirt with her tiny warm fingers, her chest rising and falling and as she smoothed my shirt off my shoulders and pressed her warm breasts with those hard nipples against me, wrapping her arms tightly around my shoulders. She plunged her mouth into the hollow of my neck and consumed me, moans of desire falling from her gorgeous lips as I gasped in pleasure and felt my eyes darken with lust and I couldn't stop, I couldn't slow down as I ripped my pants off and threw them across the room and wrapped my arms around her lower back and ground into her hips, the hips of this goddess. The scent of her arousal swirled around us and she was no longer just her, and I was no longer just myself as I gently spread her legs and slid home, becoming one with her — one body, one soul as we both trembled and moaned at the joining. It was as if every part of us slid perfectly into place to become a single entity._

Later, much later I opened my eyes and looked through the windshield of the Volvo. The moon had set. I could already feel the yearning, the pain in my chest as the reality of separation overtook my senses. If I wasn't already sitting it would have brought me to my knees. Sighing deeply, I knew this would never be enough. It had been years and it was not enough, I only wanted more of this angel, this woman who called to every fiber of my being. I could either keep living in this constant state of wanting more, or I could find a way to persuade this human, now so close to me, so temptingly close, to be mine.

Moaning her sweet name just at the thought I closed my eyes and felt for the scarf that had been around my neck. Opening my eyes quickly I searched the car frantically — under the seats, outside the car, the backseat, everywhere.

_It was gone._

BPOV

I woke the next morning to the remnant scent of sun and honey, the memory of my dream lover's kiss still on my lips. And in my hand I could feel something soft and familiar. Sitting up, I opened my eyes so that I could see what it was.

_My blue scarf. He brought it back to me. _

**A/N:**

**Thanks to everyone who is reading, reviewing, favoriting, alerting, etc. **

**Songs for Chapter 13**

30. Now Now, by St. Vincent. Because Bella knows Edward lied and feels like she's not good enough for him.

31. Mona Lisa, by Blair. Because Bella's coming apart a bit in this chapter, and for the lyric, "I was Mona Lisa, and you made me abstract art."

32. Cello Song, by Nick Drake. For Edward wanting to bring joy to his sad Fantasy Bella.

33. A Cold Wind Will Blow Through Your Door, by Bill Ricchini. For Edward because he stole Bella's scarf and brought it back to her.

**You can hear all the songs for this story by visiting the playlist on my profile or at  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Huge thanks to my co-author and friend, FantasyMother. ****We still plan to post a chapter every weekday this week.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

Chapter 14

_**October 2009**_

BPOV

For the next few weeks I took to walking through the streets of the city, the blue scarf deep in my pocket or safely around my neck like a talisman. Each day when I finished my lab work I'd drive into town, park on a side street and slowly stroll through the old city before it got dark. I didn't know why I was doing it. It was like a compulsion to find something, but I didn't quite know what. Was I looking for him? I was certainly thinking about him. He was a puzzle that I couldn't piece together. But this need to go walking felt bigger, like I was looking for something larger than him, larger than life. I knew it wasn't rational. In fact, one time I drove directly home, scoffing at the idea of continuing these aimless searches, but it was no use. I sat at home and grew more agitated by the minute until the only thing I could do was get back in my car and drive the short distance downtown, where I once again resumed my daily walk.

As I wandered, I thought about that day in the bookstore when he lifted the impossibly heavy bookcase. I also thought of my embarrassing run-in with him at the high school, and the mind-boggling concept that _he was still in high school_. I had come up with a half dozen reasons for why that might be, but not a single one of them rang true. But there was something that rang true over and over again as I replayed it in my thoughts — the certainty that he never wished to see me again. Of course he wouldn't. But god help me, _I_ wanted to see _him_ again . . .

I couldn't shake my curiosity about why he looked exactly as he had six years ago. The idea kept coming into my head that he was . . . "other." He wasn't like me, he wasn't quite . . . human?

I sighed, impatient with my own crazy notions. If I didn't start getting my thoughts under control, I was going to find myself in a white institutional building behind tall gates.

I hated feeling this clueless, this helpless, this out-on-a-limb with no answers and, seemingly, no way to find any. I felt like I was living out a destiny created by another, and I had been flung into the middle of it to play my part without a script in hand, with nothing but improvisation to guide my way. _All the world's a stage._

I often thought about his beautiful face. Was it his golden eyes and his pale skin that made him look so . . . different? And . . . hmm . . . Didn't the bookshop owner — his mother — look like that too? Why had she been curious about where I came from? Could she have remembered me from Forks? I knew I never met her, so why did she seem so insistent about it? Maybe he had talked about me to his mother, but that seemed improbable at best. Surely he never would have mentioned me. We spent a single day in the same school, a total of two hours in the same proximity and half of that time . . .

Memories of that day filled my mind. His look of fury, nostrils flaring, eyes squinting, sheer loathing radiating from him as if I was the most detestable thing on earth.

_Oh no_. Now it all made sense. Of course _he'd_ remember it, too. Maybe he even mentioned it to his mother. My eyes started to fill with tears as I realized that was probably what happened. He probably told his mother this plain girl wouldn't stop staring at him. They probably had a good laugh over it.

Burning with the shame of his rejection, I felt so sad, so lonely, so unlovable. I longed for my dream lover to appear by my side, hold me in his arms and tell me I was loved, that I was worthy of love. But of course that was impossible.

For a while I just kept walking, not keeping track of where I was. But before long, my tears were so thick that I couldn't see where I was going. Finding a park bench I collapsed onto it, quietly crying. I cried for the love I wanted, for the man I wanted to love me, for my dream lover to be real. I cried for what could have been, and for my certain knowledge that it never _would_ be.

I stayed on the bench until my tears started to subside, and I knew I should collect myself and get home before it got any later. I picked up the empty bottle of Snapple that I'd been drinking and stood up to leave . . .

Wait a moment.

_Where was I?_

I turned around in a slow 360. The familiar buildings of downtown were gone, replaced by old, peeling, three-story houses with lines of grey laundry hanging from the ramshackle balconies. The wind had picked up, blowing a few sheets of old newspapers across the road. A mangy old dog trotted down the middle of the empty street, glancing my way and then continuing on to wherever it was going. The last streams of sunlight had turned the sky to an inky shade of violet. There were no familiar landmarks to give me a clue of how to get out of this place.

I wrapped my arms around myself and started shivering — from cold or fear or depression I wasn't certain. Some voices called out in the distance — hard and guttural with bursts of raucous laughter erupting between their banter. I now had a choice — head towards the sound of those voices hoping to get directions back to the downtown area, or move away from whoever they might be.

I chose the voices.

I squared my shoulders and strode towards them with all the self-confidence I could muster. I would simply ask for directions and then move on my way. Gathering my courage, I told myself the worst that might happen would be bad directions.

As I approached, I saw five men with a couple of six packs of beer dangling from their hands. They were laughing and pounding each other on the backs. Not exactly a group I would approach under normal circumstances. But I was lost and I didn't have any other options. So I walked towards them, looking the tallest man directly in the eye. I got ready to speak when he smirked and winked.

"Hey, beautiful, how ya doin'?" he drawled, eying me up and down as he tried to stand without swaying, six pack dangling from his index finger. "Wanna beer?"

His cohorts laughed and also held up their beers at me. _Shit. _This was the last, I mean the very last thing I needed to hear. I knew I wasn't beautiful, and to make matters worse, they were eying me like a piece of meat.

"Uh, thanks, but no thanks. Listen, could you tell me how to get back to Front Street?"

Another look at the men and I knew I'd made a mistake — I should have just walked away because now they were coming over, smiling and cooing at me.

"Come on," the one on my left openly leered. "Just have one beer with us and then we'll take you anywhere you want to go . . . ain't that right, fellas?" He looked over at the others, all anxiously nodding as they sauntered closer to me.

I thought about what Charlie would tell me to do in this situation. Pepper spray . . . but I didn't have any with me. I could kick them with my knees and my feet, but they'd have to get close enough. Crash the butt of my hand into one of their noses with all my strength? It was an option, but I couldn't fight them all at once. I was down to the most basic self-defense concept that Charlie had taught me, the thing he said to do if all else failed . . .

_Run!_

Spinning around I flew in the opposite direction, not caring where I was going, just needing to get away. I could hear their laughter and catcalls behind me as I tried to increase my speed. I came to an intersection and turned right, not looking just running when a pot hole caught my foot and I flew forward, falling onto the pavement, my head hitting the curb at the moment of impact. I felt a searing pain in my arm, and looked down to see what I had landed on. My empty Snapple bottle shattered when I fell, and a big shard of glass had slit me from wrist to elbow. My blood was everywhere.

"_NOOOOOO!"_ I heard a roar behind me. Then there was a pounding of feet getting closer. When the approaching footsteps stopped, I knew whoever it was had arrived and was right next to me. I felt the reverberation of a low, unearthly growl rumbling through the air above me. It was so close to me, and yet in that moment I was not afraid.

"Hey man, we were only kidding with her," I heard a shaking voice say. It was one of the leering men, all traces of his previous bravado now abandoned in the confrontation with the growling figure hovering over me.

"Is she all right? Damn, maybe I should call an ambulance."

The growling continued above me, the pain in my arm continued to burn, and my head was pounding. Dizzy and disoriented, I didn't know how much longer I could hold on before I passed out. Wincing against the pain, I rolled onto my side and looked up.

Time seemed to slow down as I saw long, lean legs, narrow hips below a shirt stretched tight across a sculpted chest, and pale skin peeking out from the collar. I knew beyond a doubt the identity of the person I was seeing. It was him, the boy from Forks, the one who lifted the bookcase, the one who was still in high school. The one whose mystery had me meandering through the streets every evening.

Seeing him closely for the first time, I noticed that he didn't really look like a boy when he was outside of a high school. He had chiseled features and a hard set to his jaw. He could pass as a high school student, but he also looked like he could be around my age.

I looked into his golden eyes and saw what looked like pain, despair and regret in his gaze. And . . . was that also tenderness and love? His wild bronze hair fluttered in the breeze, brushing against his forehead. In that moment, I had only one thought: This was the most beautiful man I had ever seen in my life.

I felt another wave of pain and tore my eyes away from him and to look down at my injured arm. Blood was running out of the gash, and the smell of copper and iron and salt was permeating the air. But beneath that, I caught the distinctive sun and honey scent of this man — this man standing in front of me, hovering over me, protecting me. Looking back up at him, I once again locked my eyes with his, and tried to thank him with nothing but my silence. My peripheral vision was fading away — but as long as I could see him I knew I was still alive.

He knelt down, pain evident in his face as if my wound was his own. A shaking hand reached out towards me, long smooth fingers caressed my cheek as his eyes grew even softer, glinting in the light of the street lamp. I wasn't sure, but I thought I saw his chest shake with a sob.

He turned his face away from me for a moment and drew in a breath, almost like a swimmer coming up for air. Turning back to me he said in a strained voice, "You'll be all right, I promise you. I'll get you to safety." And then he said something so softly I wasn't sure I had heard it right. It sounded like, "My beloved," but I couldn't be positive.

I kept looking into his eyes even though I knew my lids were drooping. I was starting to feel cold and numb. With the last of my strength, I tried to pull myself up closer to him and whispered, "Please . . . please just tell me your name."

And as my vision faded and my world descended into blackness, I heard his whispered answer.

"Edward. My name is Edward."

_* * *_

_I was in a strange bed, and there was the sound of rhythmic beeping and an antiseptic smell in the air. None of that mattered, though, because the scent of sun and honey was also there. I opened my eyes to see my dream lover sitting on the bed and holding my hand._

"_I'm so sorry," he whispered, gently kissing my knuckles. "I wish I could be here with you, really be here with you." I wanted to reach out and hold him to me but I couldn't lift one of my arms._

"_I wish you were here with me, too, my love. It's all I ever want." _

_I could feel a yearning radiating from his body, from his very soul "My beloved, I can't, there's too much blood . . . I couldn't take it a moment longer. . ."_

_Before I could process what he just called me and why his whisper suddenly sounded so familiar, my eyes closed again and I fell back into the darkness of sleep._

EPOV

Isabella's accident had rocked me to the core. Once I was back in the safety of my car my mind spun with scenario after scenario, each ending in her death before I got her to medical help. And then more scenarios of losing control and finishing what the horrible wound had not. The blood that poured from her arm called to me like the strongest siren. It was torture to resist. I could almost taste it, imagined the feel of it, the sweetest nectar from her veins sliding down my throat and finally quenching the burn I lived with day in and day out . . .

_No no no_, I would not even THINK it!

I had been following her today, and yet I was powerless to prevent her grievous injury. A damnable bit of sunlight held me captive as I watched her veer off her usual route. I cursed inwardly again, knowing that if I was human this would never have happened. If I was human I'd be walking by her side and never let her roam where there might be any danger . . .

Snarling, I thought of the reason she was running. Those leering bastards. I did not care that they ultimately helped by calling 911. This was _MY_ Isabella, and their thoughts about her were vile. I raised my hands to my face and smelled her blood. Although the venom pooled in my mouth, I knew that was as far as it would go. As difficult as it had been, I managed to control myself today. My craving for her blood had not won out over my desire for her, my love for her, and my overwhelming need to protect her. I had been able to resist the call of her blood, even as it flowed freely before me.

In spite of the horror of the day I couldn't help but smile a bit. After all these years, she was finally within reach. I had held her in my arms, if only for a moment. Isabella was really, truly, in my arms as I cradled her tiny body, carrying her to the ambulance when it pulled up to the scene. The feel of her was electric, and her scent was paradise as it swirled around me, not just because of the open wound, but because of _her_. I felt like I was walking through a cloud of heavenly bliss with an angel in my arms. Nothing in my imagination could compare to this. What would it be like to truly have her in my arms, in my bed, pressing against those tender lips . . .

I shook myself and stopped that train of thought. Not now. My love was in the back of an ambulance, and to even think this way reminded me how truly vile a creature I am. Starting the car, I shifted it into gear and drove towards the hospital.

* * *

It helps to be the "son" of the chief surgeon. I was able to move through the hospital virtually undisturbed, keeping myself hidden in dark corners as I listened to the thoughts of those caring for her. Carlisle was here tonight, and with a quiet word from me he knew it wasn't the time to question anything. He simply nodded and went to the ER to tend to her himself. She would need extensive stitches, and I knew Carlisle's talents would result in minimal scarring. Plasma had been started in the ambulance, but I suspected she'd need whole blood as well. I was not worried by the idea of her receiving a transfusion because, in addition to all of today's blood donor screening techniques, Carlisle would be able to detect if there was anything tainting the blood before it was given to her.

So I had asked Carlisle to attend to her personally even though I knew I'd have to answer his questions afterwards. It was worth it. I didn't even stop to think about anything but ensuring that she got the very best treatment.

I sighed and leaned against the wall in relief as I heard the diagnosis come in. A mild concussion, general bruises and abrasions, and 32 stitches to close the wound on her arm. Although the loss of blood was severe, it was stopped before there was any permanent damage to her brain and other internal organs. Two units of blood later and she was sleeping peacefully in a private room arranged by Carlisle. And now I stood outside the door to that room, listening carefully to her heartbeat and respiration.

I had to see her. Once I was certain she was deeply asleep I quietly stepped into the room, slipped into a dark corner behind the door, and gazed at her sleeping face.

Her lovely hair was matted, and she looked far paler than I remembered. The monitors were softly beeping and she was ashen in the green glow of the display. But she was alive, and she was as beautiful as ever to me. And I was in the same room with her . . .

It was past 3:00 a.m., and the floor nurses were busy writing up the reports for their shifts. I knew I had at least an hour before anyone came in to check her vitals, and I would hear the thoughts of anyone who might approach her room.

I couldn't take my eyes off my sweet Isabella. Here she was, just 15 feet in front of me. I could feel the terror welling up inside me again when I thought of how close to death she had come.

I knew I should leave, but I couldn't. Perhaps just a moment to calm myself . . . to just close my eyes and see her whole and uninjured in my mind. It might give me the strength to deal with this reality. I just needed a moment to think of her in my imagination . . .

_She was lying there sleeping, on her side, looking as peaceful as ever. I sighed contentedly; this was just what I needed — to see her as she always looked in my mind, as she looked for years. A soft smile graced the corners of her lips and this time, for the first time, I had no intention of waking her. I simply wanted to spend a few moments gazing at my goddess._

_As I watched her I had the oddest sense I wasn't alone . . . I felt like a door in the corner of my mind was cracking open, a sensation I hadn't felt in over 4 years when I felt the quiet tendrils of a pure presence with me as I hunted. For a moment I panicked, not knowing where this intrusion came from, and suddenly the room shifted. I heard a heart monitor and my angel was thrashing on the bed, moaning in pain. I tried to pull out of the fantasy that had shifted and taken a direction of its own, causing all my fears to rush back at me. And at that moment, she opened her eyes and stared at me in shock._

"_Edward? Why are you in my dream?" _

My eyes flew open, the fantasy shredded into a thousand filaments as I looked over at Isabella, who was looking back at me. I froze, suddenly unsure what was reality and what was fantasy. As I saw her reach for the light switch I acted on instinct.

I was out the door and gone before she moved another inch.

**A/N:**

****

Serious thanks to everyone who is reading, favoriting, and reviewing. There have been a number of questions lately along the lines of, "What about the scarf, the button, the indentation in the bed?" Answers are coming, but there's a fair bit of story to be told before we get there. Hope you'll stay with us through the telling.

Songs for Chapter 14

34. Perfect World, by Liz Phair. For Bella wishing she was "cool, tall, vulnerable and luscious."

35. Save Me, by Aimee Mann. Because Bella is a "girl in need of a tourniquet" in this chapter.

36. Strange and Beautiful, by Aqualung. For Edward who just cannot resist watching over Bella and coming to her in a dream at the hospital.

**You can hear all the songs for this story by visiting the playlist on my profile or at  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Huge thanks to my co-author and friend, FantasyMother. ****Chapters still to come Thursday and Friday of this week.**

**There's a thread on the Twilighted AU forums if you care to visit. **

**Reviews are very much appreciated.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

Chapter 15

_**October 2009**_

EPOV

From my car, I stared at the main entrance of the hospital, as nervous as a schoolboy. Then I looked down at my trembling hands and chuckled to myself at the analogy, because that's exactly what I was. 108 years old and a perpetual schoolboy. _Maybe it was time to change that . . . _

I looked up again, afraid I'd miss her. I had checked her chart and knew she was being discharged today, I just didn't know when. I had to see her again, in the flesh — my Isabella.

I heard the automatic doors glide open and peered at the front of the building. There she was, being delivered to the front sidewalk in a wheelchair, per hospital rules. As soon as she stood up, the hospital worker turned around and unceremoniously pushed the chair back inside — leaving Isabella standing alone with a blank look on her face. I didn't need to read her mind to know she had no clue how she was getting home.

This was my moment.

Getting out of the car and remembering to pace myself, I slowly walked towards her, trying to keep a pleasant smile on my face, and no more. I moved cautiously — after all, she barely knew me. I cleared my throat to get her attention, and she turned and looked directly at me . . . nearly my undoing. I glanced down at my feet, suddenly feeling once again like a shy teenager.

"Hello. I never had the opportunity to formally introduce myself." I looked up and directly into her wide eyes, and if my heart could beat it would have stopped at that moment. There was a sudden shift in wind and the sweetness of her scent hit me, but I was able to swallow the venom and even take another breath and continue.

"My name is Edward Cullen."

She blinked at me and did not say a word, simply staring at me until she suddenly diverted her eyes.

"Nice to know your name Edward Cullen," she said. "Mine is Isabella Swan," She looked back at me, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What brings you to the hospital? Are you sick?"

"My father is one of the doctors here." Yes, that was smooth. Maybe I can do this. "And I am so glad to see you are looking well. I assume you have someone coming to drive you home?"

Her face fell for just a moment, then became determined as she started walking towards the road.

"I'm . . . just going to grab a cab," she said with just a hint of self-doubt. She turned slightly in my direction as she walked, and called, "Nice to meet you, Edward." I watched as she looked up and down the street, seeming somewhat perplexed — she clearly had not thought this through.

I stepped closer to her. "If you like, I can drive you home. Cabs don't come by here too often, and I really wouldn't mind. In fact, it would be my pleasure." I gave her a careful smile, afraid to reveal too much of what I was thinking, afraid to let her see how much I wanted the simple honor of driving her home.

"But isn't your father expecting you?" She glanced my way again, and thought I detected a barely suppressed smile playing at the corners of her mouth. _Oh, that mouth. Calm down Edward_.

"We don't have a specific time set, I can come back later. My car is parked right over there, and it really would be no trouble . . ." I held my breath, hoping she would say yes.

She gave a small sigh, her decision evidently made. "Thank you, Edward, I really would appreciate it," she said quietly and walked over to me. She looked up at me briefly, and then cast her eyes to the ground as I led her towards my car. I opened the door for her and after she slid herself in I closed it gently and slowly walked to the other side, doing everything I could to control my urge to break into a huge smile.

In the confines of the car, I could feel the burn in my throat at the scent of fresh blood from her injury mixed with flowers, a bit of adrenaline, and a surprising hint of arousal. I immediately hit the button to lower my window.

Pulling away from the curb, I glanced over at her, quietly taking in her beauty.

"Where to?" Thankfully I remembered to ask where she lived. She gave me directions, then faced forward again.

We drove in silence, which was good because I truly had no idea what to say to her. When she instructed me to pull up in front of her apartment building I stopped the car and looked at her, knowing I had to say something. This was my last chance.

"Isabella," I started.

"Bella."

"Excuse me?" I was totally confused.

"Bella," she repeated.

I almost looked around to see if there was another person behind me.

Rolling her eyes she grinned for a moment and then her face was an expressionless mask again.

"Please call me Bella. The only time someone calls me Isabella is if they don't know me, or when I was in hot water with my parents. I . . . er . . . I consider you a friend, so . . . I'm Bella. Okay?"

I wanted to jump up and dance but I managed to stay frozen in my seat while reverently nodding my head. She just gave me the greatest gift I could imagine — she called me her friend.

"And one more thing," she said, looking down at her hands twisting in her lap. I noticed her face had picked up a rose hue — she was blushing.

"I'd like to thank you Edward. Really thank you. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have survived my own clumsiness." At this point she was a bright red, and I thought I saw tears in her eyes.

I was a total loss as to what to say. I must have looked ridiculous, staring at her with a dazed smile on my face, but I could think of nothing but her utter perfection as I gazed into her eyes. I watched the color drain from her face as we both started to lean towards each other. A bright spark behind her eyes drew me in closer, and closer . . .

Suddenly she sat up straight and blinked a few times. She gave me one last glance, opened her door and ran to her apartment door — not even taking a moment to look back.

BPOV

I barreled into my apartment, slammed the door behind me, and collapsed onto the closest chair. I winced from the pain in my arm and the dull ache in my head but it was okay — the pain was helping to keep me grounded.

I had to calm down, slow my breathing, take this one step at a time — I needed to be analytical.

Breathing deeply I was hit again with a trace of the sun and honey scent that was overwhelming me in the car. _Be rational Bella_. Okay . . . I knew I needed to expect this, I had picked up his scent before and . . . _slow down Bella, one step at a time._ Okay . . . scent. The same as my dream lover. I had already analyzed this, solved this, compartmentalized it. Next.

Those eyes . . . his golden eyes that drew me in. His smile . . . had I seen him smile before? It was radiant, like sunbeams bursting through the clouds. His voice — the timbre made me tremble inside, like crushed velvet brushing against my mind. _Get ahold of yourself, Bella. You passed "cheesy" when you compared his smile to a sunbeam._

I sat up straight but still couldn't shake off. I was in the car with him, he offered to drive _me_ home. He literally beamed when I called him my friend. I giggled from the giddiness of it.

Not wanting to get ahead of myself, I tried to regain my ability for logical thought. I started reviewing what had happened the past few days.

I realized that I no longer thought of him as a teenage boy, yet, a few days ago that was exactly what he looked like. What had changed? He was definitely a student in the high school, that part _hadn't_ changed — it had been confirmed by the administration. But today, he seemed like a man, not a boy.

And he had appeared in my dream at the hospital. Okay, maybe that wasn't so odd. He _had_ just rescued me, after all.

Yet, of all people, _he_ was the one to find me after I fell in the street. He didn't even look surprised to see me. How . . . why . . .? I couldn't explain it. I would have to examine it another time.

Adding to the list of things I couldn't explain was his expression when he found me. In spite of the ache in my head, the pain in my arm, and the shock of all that had happened, I could have sworn he had looked at me lying on that street with genuine care and tenderness. It wasn't my overactive imagination. And when he reached down to take me in his arms to carry me to the ambulance, he called me his beloved.

And, later that night, in my dream, that was _exactly_ what my dream lover had called me.

I lowered my pounding head into my hands, the rush of adrenaline starting to seep away. I had to admit it. Never before, outside of my dreams, had I met a man to whom I was drawn. There was no question I was smitten with him. The realization of what I felt towards him, of how it introduced a new level of vulnerability into my life, was almost as disturbing as the enigmas of both my dreams and who or _what_ Edward really was.

Because for the first time in my life I found myself desperately wanting someone, a specific someone — someone who was not a dream — who was flesh and blood and even had a name. _Edward._

But I was Bella, just plain Bella. I had nothing to offer a man like this, a man so far out of my league. And as much as I'd like to believe otherwise, I was probably mistaken — he couldn't really have looked at me with tenderness; he didn't really call me his beloved. When I took a moment to be honest with myself, how could he? He didn't know me at all.

I needed to set aside fairytales and romances. I had more than enough to deal with — mysteries for which I didn't have answers. Yet I felt positive that _he_ was the one I would get those answers from.

It was time to stop floating through life, at least for this moment, and step into new territory — because if I didn't, all I would be left with was the certainty I had finally gone mad, and that my life would end before it could really begin.

I'd find him again and this time, instead of running away, I was going to ask him what I wanted to know.

**A/N: **

**Wow, Perchance to Dream made the list of fics that are in the running for an Indie TwiFic Award! You can read more about the awards at  
www . theindietwificawards . com, and I'll post more info about voting next week. Thanks to any/everyone who nominated PTD! :^)**

**Song for Chapter 15**

37. He Came to Meet Me, by Hem. Because it's such a sweet song, and because Edward came to get Bella in this chapter.

**You can hear all the songs for this story by visiting the playlist on my profile or at  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Huge thanks to my co-author and friend, FantasyMother. Also, special thanks to Cullenista for her wise advice and kind support. **

**One more chapter to come this week — tomorrow! As always, r****eviews are greatly appreciated.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

Chapter 16

_**October 2009**_

EPOV

As I walked up the stairs I listened carefully to confirm the other family members were still out of the house, apart from the two with whom I wanted to speak. Reaching the top of the stairs I turned left, a direction I rarely took, and headed for Esme's home office. I stood at the door for a moment and looked at the room she enjoyed the most. Its walls were painted muted colors and it was simply furnished with a soft and inviting couch and a large table that was big enough to handle blueprints. I turned towards her. She was sitting at the table quietly, waiting for me to say something.

"Esme, would you mind talking with me for a few minutes? Actually, I'd like to talk to both you and Carlisle."

Her thoughts registered surprise, but she gave me a soft, loving smile and said, "Of course Edward." She gestured towards the couch. "Have a seat."

Within seconds, Carlisle joined us from his study. He had heard me mention his name and did not need to be called. Esme walked over to him and touched his hand; they shared a small moment of tenderness when their eyes met. She gestured for him to take the spot next to me on the couch, and then slipped back into her desk chair behind the table. They were both curious and concerned, and looked at me expectantly.

I sat on the couch and suddenly didn't know what to say. But I knew Esme was a compassionate woman with a huge heart and a clear mind. She would listen to me and not judge, and would never betray a secret. Neither would Carlisle. When Isab— when _Bella_ was injured, I needed Carlisle more than I needed my privacy. More importantly, Bella needed him, needed his skills, needed his expertise. There was no one I trusted more with Bella's life, and it was time I trusted him with more of mine.

"I don't quite know where to start." I folded my hands in front of me, internally organizing what I'd say to them. Esme smiled again, shaking her head knowingly. In her mind, an image of Bella came into view.

"It's that lovely woman who came into my shop, isn't it?"

Confused, Carlisle gave her a questioning glance. I gasped. I had not expected to see my love reflected back at me in Esme's thoughts.

"Edward," she said softly. "I know you've had it harder than any of the rest of us. You deserve your privacy, and unless you want to share, your life is your own business. But I'm not totally unobservant."

I realized it was best to start from the beginning. Carlisle was still confused, and while Esme knew enough to know that I wanted to talk about Bella, she did not know the full story.

"Esme, Carlisle," I looked back and forth between the two of them, "do you remember when we were in Forks, when I fled from my singer?" They both nodded as images from six years ago flashed through their minds — me, abruptly leaving Forks with rushed good-byes and little explanation. The whole family following a week later. I was still touched that they came with me so that I would not have to spend my self-imposed exile alone.

Coming back to the present, I continued, "There was more to my departure than just the fact that I encountered my singer. At the time, I didn't want to say anything about it. I was confused and a bit embarrassed, and . . . actually, Carlisle, I didn't want to hurt you."

"How could you have hurt me?" He was genuinely perplexed as he turned in his seat to face me.

"Well, you've been apologizing to me for decades for something I neither understood nor cared about. I know you've always been afraid that you turned me too young, before certain . . . _changes_ established themselves. If I told you I discovered you were wrong, after all you'd gone through, I wasn't certain it would bring you joy or — humiliation. And I guess I have to admit, it was something I did not want to share with anyone." I gave them both pointed looks. "It was, and still is, something I do not want the rest of the family to know about."

A lovely smile graced Esme's face as she spoke her thoughts aloud. "Oh Edward, you have no idea how many times I've told him he was wrong. I was certain it was simply a question of the right time, the right person and nothing else. So . . . can I assume it's the woman I saw?" Once again I saw Bella's lovely countenance through Esme's mind's eye.

Looking at me compassionately, Carlisle thought, _Edward, nothing you do could embarrass me . . . _

I looked at him with thanks and resumed my explanation. "She is my singer, and I really did have to leave Forks. But she's also the only woman I have ever met who made me feel . . . well, desire." If I could have blushed, I would have been beet red.

I decided there was a limit to what I would reveal, and my fantasies would remain my own secret. Carlisle and Esme did not need to know about them.

Carlisle's thoughts were surprised, accepting, and . . . bemused.

"Edward," he said carefully. "Are you trying to tell us, to tell me, I have been wrong all these years? That you weren't too young? That it just took 90 years for you to find the right woman?"

"Carlisle, please understand. You have done so much to try to help, you have apologized so often, I don't want you to feel guilty, or ashamed, or humiliated by a diagnosis I thought was correct as well. Having gone through medical school myself, I never saw a reason to contradict you." I took a deep breath. "How could I have known, how could _you_ have known?"

As Carlisle considered what I said, he started to smile. "Never one to do something the easy way, are you Edward? She's human and she's your _singer_," he shook his head in amazement.

"Yes," I acknowledged the paradox of my predicament. "But Carlisle, I have a connection to her that is stronger than anything I have ever felt. She is extraordinary. Even during our short encounter in Forks, while I suffered the torment of her blood singing to me and used every ounce of my self-control to keep from taking her life and the lives of all those around us, I also knew if I ended her life it would be the end of mine. There is no question in my mind that she was made for me — for only me."

I looked at both of them, expecting that they might understand my next words. "If there is credence to the concept of 'love at first sight,' then I'd say . . . that's what I experienced."

As I thought they might do, Carlisle and Esme thought of each other then, and how they had first met when Esme was a sixteen-year-old human. They had both immediately felt a connection to one another.

"Yet, at the time, I believed my only option was to leave. I could not stay in that school and risk killing her and exposing the rest of us. Avoiding any risk to her well-being was the most important thing to me. It still is."

I leaned over and put my head in my hands. "So I left. We all did. But I never stopped thinking about her. _Never_."

As Carlisle and Esme's thoughts each registered empathy and understanding, I sat up and resumed my confession.

"I had no idea she was actually here in Binghamton. In fact, it was only a few weeks ago that I saw her for the first time in six years. Even though we had only a brief encounter on a single day in Forks, she recognized me the moment she saw me — and she knew that I was not . . . _normal_."

Looking at Esme, I continued, "then in your shop, she confronted me and I faltered, nearly admitting the truth. Still, I could have rectified my error if it weren't for the bookcase and the child. She saw it all, Esme." I let out a short sigh. "And I thought I was being so careful."

Confusion flared again in Carlisle's thoughts, and then subsided when Esme turned her head and wordlessly confirmed that she would fill him in on the details later. I was coming to the part of the story that Carlisle already knew something about — the night that Bella was injured.

"Unwittingly, I had put her in danger because she saw what I could do. Even if I ran again, if I _could_ run again, the danger would not abate. She knows too much and it's my own damned fault for being too careless. So I've been following her . . . "

Carlisle's thoughts switched to images of me desperately approaching him at the hospital and asking him to help Bella. He still did not know what brought me to him that evening, and so I explained it.

"A couple of nights ago she got lost in a part of town she never should have ventured into. I was following her, but the sun came out late in the day and I lost sight of her. I had to pick up her scent to find her again, but by then she was in trouble. I found her on the ground, her radial artery severed, and with a blunt trauma to the head. She was losing massive amounts of blood. I gathered from the thoughts of those nearby that she tripped and fell in a panic because a group of foul men had been teasing her. A glass bottle she had been holding broke on impact, causing the injury to her arm. Her blood was everywhere."

Esme put her hand over her mouth, a horrific vision springing to her mind. "Oh, Edward, you didn't, did you?"

"No, I didn't," I whispered. "An ambulance was called and I carried her to the EMTs. She was unconscious by then. The loss of blood was severe, but I never tasted a drop. I drove to the hospital and asked Carlisle if he would tend to her personally."

The mere act of telling them about Bella's accident caused me to relive with perfect clarity the pain, the burning in my throat, the desperate battle against my monster, but more than that, the paralyzing terror that my love was hurt, that she could be dying. It outweighed all else, even the bloodlust.

"Edward," Carlisle put a hand on my shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

I did not try to hide the range of emotions I was feeling. "She's human, she knows more than she should. She knows I was in high school with her six years ago and that I'm still in high school now. She knows I haven't aged." My voice nearly cracked. "And _I _know that I cannot live without her."

Carlisle was thoughtful. "Edward, in nearly 370 years, I have never met a vampire who could have resisted the blood of his singer when it was flowing so heavily from a deep vascular wound. How did you do it?" It took a great deal to surprise Carlisle.

"It was not easy," I replied, "but I had been . . . practicing, you might say. Seeing her here in Binghamton after six years was the biggest surprise of my existence. And it made me wonder if I could actually be near her, talk to her some day. So I obtained an article of her clothing — a scarf – to try and desensitize myself to her scent." I grinned sheepishly from Esme to Carlisle, who were not attempting to mask their mutual astonishment at my words. "I guess it worked."

"Still, I didn't expect to put my training to the test by having my singer's artery sliced open before my eyes." I gave a mirthless chuckle. "I don't recommend it."

Esme hid a smile behind her hand, but before he could stop himself Carlisle laughed. "Edward, I never would have thought anyone could be in such proximity to his singer, but you," he looked at me with awe, "have not only found a way but have indeed achieved it in the most trying of circumstances." Then his face grew serious, because we all knew this was no laughing matter. It would only take one slip of my control and Bella's life would be over. "You have our support, Edward. We'll help in any way we can."

I nodded in gratitude.

Esme quietly cleared her throat, and Carlisle and I both turned to her. "Edward, there isn't a great deal I'm allowed to tell you but I will tell you this much . . ."

I bristled at her word choice . . . _allowed._ I tried to read her thoughts to glean more meaning, but she was guarded. A blur of images sped through her mind, too quick for me to understand. Then all I could see was what I already knew.

Esme's words were carefully chosen. "A few weeks ago Alice had a vision — a rather _unusual_ one. You were there." Immediately I thought of the vision that had caused Alice to collapse on the same day that Bella drove by the high school and saw me in the parking lot. Ever since, Alice had done everything she could to block all knowledge of that vision from me. It was not the first time I had been surprised by Alice's talent, but I had to admit the sheer power of this vision had left me intrigued.

"We don't know the details, I'm not even certain Alice knows all the details, but we _do_ know we're to stay out of whatever is going on in your life right now. You won't get the interference this family is sometimes so capable of providing. It is the job of all who love you to remain fully on the sidelines and let this play out."

She smiled at me gently and said something even more intriguing. "It's not the first time Alice has had this vision, but it was the first time it was so . . . _explicit_ in the requirement that we not interfere."

I seethed in anger. The very idea that Alice refused to tell me whatever she knew about my future with Bella was maddening.

Esme looked at me with concern and understanding. "I know you, Edward, and I know how much it frustrates you not to have more details on this. But Alice can't give you more details. For the first time in your life you must operate on faith — faith in what your head tells you, and faith in what your heart tells you."

At Esme's words, I quelled my own anger. I knew Alice would not purposefully keep something from me unless it was essential that she do so. I could have at least that much faith.

"And Edward," Esme said seriously, "I believe there is more here than meets the eye." She glanced over at Carlisle, and then looked back at me. Her face was full of compassion while her thoughts continued to stay away from Alice.

"And if I had to guess, having seen the face of your lovely friend, I would say that she cares as much for you as you do for her, or she will shortly."

Suddenly, in Esme's thoughts, I was treated to another vision of Bella . . . it must have been immediately after I rushed out of the bookstore, because I saw her, mouth slightly open in surprise, staring at the just-slammed door and then asking Esme who I was. Her eyes were wide, curious . . . beautiful.

With a smile at Esme, and then at me, Carlisle also turned his thoughts to Bella. "She certainly impressed me when I treated her at the hospital. The injury to her arm was extraordinarily painful, but she held herself with dignity the entire time. Her questions were insightful and showed a quick mind, along with a quick wit that had me chuckling at times." And even though Carlisle was remembering Bella wryly smiling and joking, it was still difficult for me to see the images of her in the hospital. She was so battered and bruised, and it was all my fault.

And then, as Esme had done, Carlisle showed me another side of Bella. He was thoughtful as he concentrated on a faraway look on Bella's face. "She seemed to suffer from a loneliness, almost a despair. I wonder . . . perhaps . . . Edward, perhaps she's been waiting all this time for _you_, just as you have waited for her?" He paused again. "I know she's your singer — and that alone means you'll be facing difficulties beyond the fact she's human. But I have faith in you." I looked up at him and his eyes shined with pride.

As I reflected on what Carlisle and Esme each said, I realized they were both encouraging me to try to establish a relationship with Bella. Not a word about the Volturi, not a mention of the Law. I was moved by the depths of their kindness, their love, their willingness to help me attain what I most desired regardless of the bizarre circumstances. I could not have loved the two of them more than I did at that moment.

And so I stood up, Carlisle following me. I hugged them both and headed off towards my room. I had made a decision. If Bella was willing, I would follow my heart. And we would see what might come of the most unlikely pair — a vampire and his singer.

Back in my room, I began to consider how specifically I would approach Bella. As I thought about it, my thoughts took an odd turn. I thought back to my fantasy the other night at the hospital and how she seemed to see _me_ in it, actually calling my name. I also thought about the time that she had a desperate need to make love to me, how she had cried for me to find her. I thought of Esme's cryptic words, and I wondered — is there indeed more here than meets the eye? Am I so certain of my analysis of what my mind is creating through these fantasies that I'm missing something critically important?

I brought my hands to my face and once again breathed in the freesias, her scent a near constant to me now, and couldn't shake the feeling that somehow I was missing the obvious.

**A/N:**

**Perchance to Dream is one of the many nominated for the Indie TwiFic Awards. Our gracious thank you's to the nominator(s). The web site explaining the voting rules, timelines, and nominated stories is at www[dot]theindietwificawards[dot]com**

**Songs for Chapter 16**

38. Save It For Later, by the English Beat. For Edward deciding to come clean and tell Carlisle and Esme about Bella.

39. All of My Days, by Alexi Murdoch. For Edward confessing out loud that he's waited 90 years for Bella.

**Listen to the playlist by visiting my profile or going to  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Huge thanks as ever to FantasyMother. **

**We'll be back Monday with a new chapter. To those in the U.S., have a happy and safe 4th of July. **

**Reviews are greatly appreciated.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

* * *

Chapter 17

_**Early November 2009**_

BPOV

A week after I was released from the hospital I finally got the clearance to drive again. It was good to have my car back, to get back into my daily routines. The city's bus service was fine, but the bus route didn't go past Binghamton High School, and I had grown accustomed to driving by the school each day and seeing his car there. I missed the flare of excitement that sparked inside me every time I saw the silver Volvo. _He was there_. Whatever else he did and wherever else he went, he was _there_, somewhere in the school building, when I drove past each morning.

I knew I was pathetic, but I couldn't help it. I told myself that, all things considered, driving by to look at a parked car was pretty harmless. And it was, after all, directly on my way to the university.

I usually drove past the high school after the students had already arrived for the day. But the morning after I was cleared to drive, there was an 8:00 a.m. meeting at the lab, so I had to go to campus early. As I got in my car and tossed my backpack over to the passenger's seat, it crossed my mind that I might actually see him if I happened to drive past while he was walking from his car to the school building. I couldn't help feeling a little burst of anticipation at the thought.

As I approached the high school, my eyes were drawn to the student parking lot out of habit. The Volvo was there, in its usual space. And then, as I had hoped, I saw him. I watched as the driver's side door of his car opened and he stepped out into the overcast morning. The short-haired girl got out of the passenger side, and she seemed to be talking to him. But he didn't look at her. Instead, as if by sixth sense, he looked up and directly at _me._ Even though I was in my car and probably a good 50 yards away, he seemed to be looking right at me. My stomach leapt to my throat in a jolt of nervousness.

Without thinking, and before I even knew what I was doing, I lifted one hand from the steering wheel and gave a tentative little wave. My face automatically went into what I was sure was an idiotic grin.

To my amazement, he brought his own hand up and waved back at me, and at the same time his mouth formed into the most gorgeous, crooked smile.

_Well, this is awkward. _In a sing-song, talking-to-myself-in-the-car voice, I said through clenched teeth, "Oh, hi Edward! Yes, it's me, that plain, clumsy girl. I have a big crush on you, even though you're out of my league . . . I'm just driving by hoping to see you because I'm a total dork."

His expression shifted and his eyebrows knitted together. It looked like he had just heard something that confused him. His smile faded as he cocked his head slightly and dropped his hand to his side. He looked as if he was saying something — something directed at me. But he was too far away for me to hear.

It all happened so fast, I didn't know what to make of it. So I did the only thing I could think of . . .

I just kept driving.

* * *

The rest of the day was overcast with a hint of snow in the air, although none was predicted quite yet. This time of year you could smell the snow approaching from the northwest — the air had a damp and crisp feel that burned your nose as the cold stung your cheeks. It was early November — the snow would be here any day now.

It was the end of my day. I had finished classes and lab work and was enjoying a late afternoon walk on the promenade by the river. I loved walking along here. The promenade followed the Susquehanna River for a couple of miles as it meandered through downtown Binghamton — splitting the city in two. Just like on the cobblestone street, streetlamps designed to look like old gas lamps lined the walkway. It gave a sense of the old and the new coming together in a unique and attractive way. It was one of the only things that lent some charm to this otherwise old and drab town.

It was cold but the breeze was light. With a shiver I adjusted my scarf and buttoned my coat as I approached the railing separating the walkway from the river. Looking down towards the water I was mesmerized by the power of this ancient river, waves lapping against the rocks lining the shore. The river that pounded through this valley since time began was still wild, barely tamed as the waters rushed from the upstream forests, confined by the city and then let loose once again as it flowed downstream past more old and historic cities — all attempting to control its rage, to somehow gain domination over its onslaught.

I was thoroughly preoccupied with this vibrant example of the powerful energy of nature when I looked to the right, following the path of the river upstream. Raising my eyes for a moment I glanced up at the twisting pathway, and did a double take.

He was there.

Edward was standing at the railing and looking out over the river, seemingly deep in thought. His bronze hair was messy as always, fluttering a bit in the wind. He looked pale in spite of the cold that made me red-faced even when I wasn't blushing.

As a breeze swept up from behind me and blew in his direction his head snapped up. He turned toward me, eyes widening in recognition as his beautiful face lit up with a crooked smile. I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and walked towards him.

"Bella," he said, and it sounded as if he was playing with the name, letting it roll around in his mouth, getting used to the feel of saying it. "What a nice surprise." His golden eyes softened and his smile broadened. The rich tone of his voice soothed my nerves by a fraction — I was still embarrassed after our awkward wave this morning.

"Hi, Edward." I was at a loss for anything else to say. "_You're a gorgeous mystery to me and I gawked at you this morning when I drove by the high school_" didn't seem quite appropriate.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from his face. It struck me once again that when he was completely removed from a school setting, when my expectations weren't set, he didn't look like a boy at all — but was instead a stunningly handsome man who looked to be around my age.

I had so many questions for him, and he was looking at me with such an openly warm expression that I vowed to ask some of them now. I hoped he'd trust me enough to answer.

But I found myself hesitating — I couldn't stop staring at him, couldn't stop thinking about how handsome he was. Why would he want anything to do with _me_? Before the silence could stretch too far, inspiration struck. I reached for my bag, remembering that I still had the book that he had left behind in the midst of the confusion surrounding the falling bookcase.

"I have something that belongs to you." For a moment his face looked like my words meant something completely different than I had intended.

"Ah, here it is." Holding the book up to him, I said, "I was hoping I'd have the chance to return this to you." He looked down at the book — still in the paper bag. His expression was puzzled at first, and then broke into an even bigger smile.

"Oh," he chuckled softly. "Thank you, Bella."

I couldn't help but smile just a bit myself as he looked back up at me. When his eyes locked onto mine I felt myself lean towards him, drawn to him just as I had been when he drove me home from the hospital. This time, though, I caught myself and turned and faced the rail, looking at the far bank of the river. I had to keep my thoughts straight or I'd be running again. And I had too many questions that needed answers to risk that.

So, intent upon not looking at him, I continued staring across the river. Taking a deep breath I said evenly, "Edward, you and I both know we went to the same high school in Forks."

I dared a quick glance over at him. His expression had not changed, so I soldiered on. "It's been six years since I last saw you. And now here you are in Binghamton, and . . . and . . . you're a student at the high school here." I gulped and turned towards him, trying to avoid looking directly into his eyes. "Why? Are you a fugitive? In a witness protection program?"

He turned to the river, running his hand through his hair. He lowered his head a bit, still silent. Just as I was convinced he wouldn't answer, he spoke.

"No Bella, it's nothing like that."

"Will you tell me what it is, then?"

I watched him take a very deep breath and run his hand through his hair again. "I wish you wouldn't ask, to be honest."

In response I just looked at him expectantly. I wasn't going to let him off that easy.

Resigned, he sighed. "Okay, I have a bit of a problem." He glanced at me. "I . . . uh . . . I come from a particularly long lived . . . family," he almost spit that last word out. "Very long lived. It makes it necessary to do some unusual things like . . . move to new States, new areas . . . start all over again so I'm less . . . noticeable." He grimaced a bit, and then continued.

"It's not always high school. I've been through college a few times, too, but . . . well, I've been feeling a bit more preoccupied than usual lately, so . . . staying in high school for a while seemed like a good idea." He looked over at me, cringing slightly, waiting to see what my response might be.

I was stunned. It would have been so much easier for him to tell me something predictable, like my idea about the witness protection program. I was not expecting to hear _this_. His explanation was so incredible, so bizarre, so _unexpected_, that I was absolutely convinced he was telling me the truth. He was obviously editing, not telling the whole story, but he wasn't lying — of that I was certain.

I risked looking up at his face again, noting his smooth skin, his chiseled features, his beautiful eyes, his hard jaw, and I couldn't help but notice the pain as he waited for my reaction.

"Edward, is this like . . . a medical condition?" Thinking back to how young his mother looked, it started to make some sense. "Does your mother have this . . . affliction, too?"

His face registered surprise for a moment and then he nodded. "Yes Bella, my entire family has it. We age . . . imperceptibly. My mother, my sisters and brothers, and my father. Perhaps you remember him?"

His father? Why would I remember his . . . oh wait. He said his father was a doctor at the hospital. I thought back to the doctors I met. My memory after the injury was too hazy to remember much, but yes, there was one doctor who had blonde hair and very pale skin and his name was . . . damn it, I couldn't remember.

I looked up at him. "The blonde doctor with the pale skin?" I was starting to get a clearer picture in my mind when I remembered how old he looked.

"He's your father?" I said in shock.

He hesitated for just a moment and then nodded. "Yes, we all have this problem."

Suddenly I remembered the beautiful girl with short, dark hair who was always in Edward's company. It was none of my business, but I had to ask.

"The girl, the dark haired one . . . is she . . . "

"My sister," he said, interrupting me.

"Oh. I see."

I hoped he couldn't tell how relieved I was. It wasn't like it made any difference if he had a girlfriend. He surely would never be romantically interested in me.

His face suddenly grew grim, and he looked at me intently. "Bella, you have to do something for me, please. It's for all of us. You _have_ to keep this to yourself." He looked as if he regretted confiding in me. "We keep this hidden for a reason," he continued. "If it was discovered, we'd be the object of . . . well, can you imagine if it was discovered? What might happen to us?"

I thought about it and yes, of course I understood. He and his family would be medical oddities, subject to testing. There would be no way they could live a normal life — the world would try to find the secret to their fountain of youth, and would be single-minded in its goal. I felt an overwhelming pang of sympathy — and empathy. I glanced over at him again and thought maybe the two of us weren't all that different — both outcasts from normal society but for different reasons. Strangers in a Strange Land. Hmm, that thought made a connection . . .

"Lazarus Long," I said quietly, more to myself than to him.

He looked up with a surprised expression, and then he laughed. My knees went a bit weak as the joy of his laughter made him impossibly more handsome.

"Ah, a fan of science fiction I see," he chuckled. He knew what I was talking about. Robert Heinlein had written a series of books about a man named Woodrow Wilson Smith. He had been part of a group of people who willingly married, generation after generation, with chosen partners who had parental history of unusually long lives. After hundreds of generations of this experiment this group of people was capable of living lives hundreds of years long. But Smith was different. He was an early participant, second generation of the experiment so his life shouldn't have been particularly lengthened. But he was a genetic mutant. As the series concluded he had changed his name to Lazarus Long, and he was over 2,000 years old.

"Is it really like that, Edward? Is it a genetic mutation?" He turned back to the river and sighed, as if hoping to evade the question.

"I . . . We just do our best living our lives, trying to remain unnoticed." He turned back to me, a silent plea in his eyes.

"I understand," I said, hoping my expression would say more than my words. "Thank you for telling me. You have my secrecy, I promise." I took the risk and looked into his eyes, desperately needing him to see my sincerity, needing him to see he could trust me. When I started to feel his magnetic pull, I dropped my eyes quickly before I was completely incoherent.

"Thank you, Bella." His voice sounded like velvet, masculine yet soft and soothing. I saw his hand start to reach towards mine, but before he could touch me he pulled back, looking unsure. _What was that about? _Then I remembered I was talking to a walking incarnation of Adonis. I mentally chastised myself, certain I had misunderstood his action.

But I couldn't deny this was progress. We were talking, being friendly, maybe even becoming friends — so I decided to try something. I rolled my eyes and grinned at him, and did something I never did. I decided to tease him.

"Geez, Edward, high school? I barely got through it once with my sanity intact. How do you do it?"

He looked more than a little embarrassed.

"Well," he said sheepishly, "It's not always high school. Depending upon where we're living, sometimes it's college. Sometimes it's graduate school, sometimes it's hiding in the woods for a few years hoping I'm not noticed. But it's really hard to live completely outside society, so the best camouflage is often being a student — doing exactly what someone who looks like me is expected to be doing." He looked over at me, hoping I'd understand. And yes, I did. Then I had another curious thought.

"Edward, how long have you been doing this?"

He turned back towards the river. After a long silence, he said simply, "A while."

I knew then he wasn't ready to say more, and I shouldn't push him. So I didn't. Yet.

Instead, I turned around and joined him looking towards the river, standing side by side with him, deep in my own thoughts. The silence between us was comfortable for a change as we both had a lot to process. And of course, once my mind started to quiet I realized his scent swirled around me. _Just the same as the man in my dream_.

And in that moment, I wondered whether I was wrong in my rationalization about olfactory hallucinations. Maybe was it only _Edward_ whose scent I had been picking up around the city. Maybe it was just a coincidence and it was only Edward who smelled like the man in my dreams. Somehow that made me feel better and at the same time, made me feel . . . I looked over at him. _No Bella_, I thought to myself, _don't be ridiculous_. _This will never be more than a friendship_. I sighed, wishing I was beautiful, wishing I had something I could offer him besides understanding.

My sigh seemed to break his concentration and he looked at me, hesitating, as if he wanted to say something. I gave him a small and rather sad grin, letting him know he could talk to me — I was just plain old Bella — his friend, if nothing else.

"Bella I was wondering," he hesitated. "There's a theater in Ithaca that plays classic films. Next weekend is a Bogart double-feature." He looked at the ground and then up at me through his lashes. "Would you like to go with me?"

_What?_ He said _what? _Did this gorgeous, stunning, unattainable man just ask me out on a _date? _My mouth fell open and I just stared at him, unable to believe I heard correctly. My palms started to sweat, and my thudding heart threatened to beat right out of my chest. He must have noticed because, for the second time today, I saw his eyebrows knit together in a look of confusion. I suddenly realized he was waiting for my answer. I searched through my short term memory, praying this wasn't a symptom of my insanity. Did he _really_ just ask me out on a date?

_Oh, get ahold of yourself, Bella, and answer the man!_

I realized my mouth was still hanging open and I closed it with a snap. I cleared my throat and unsuccessfully tried to stop the blush from flooding my face. I had to say something before he thought better of it and withdrew the invitation. I took a deep breath and risked looking directly into his eyes one more time.

"Yes, Edward. I'd love that."

**A/N:**

**As mentioned last week, ****Perchance to Dream is one of the many nominated for the Indie TwiFic Awards, and we are very thankful for the nomination. First-round voting will take place July 8 through July 12. For more information, please visit ****www[dot]theindietwificawards[dot]com**

**Songs for Chapter 17**

40. Say it Right, by Nelly Furtado. For Bella driving by the school and thinking Edward is out of her league, but wanting him desperately.

41. Be Be Your Love, by Rachael Yamagata. For Bella on the promenade, thinking that Edward would never be romantically interested in her.

42. Undeclared, by the Dodos. For Edward, whose love for Bella is undeclared.

43. There's a Reason, by A.A. Bondy. For Edward, who wants to explain things to Bella, but he can't tell her everything just yet.

**Listen to the playlist by visiting my profile or going to  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Huge thanks as ever to FantasyMother. Feel free to visit our thread on the Twilighted forum in the Alternate Universe section. ****www[dot]twilighted[dot]net/forum**

**We'll update Monday through Friday this week. Reviews are greatly appreciated. **


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

* * *

Chapter 18

_**Early November 2009**_

EPOV

What a day it had been . . . seeing Bella not once, but twice. My mind never strayed far from thoughts of her, and now was no exception. As I silently strode through the woods on this late-night hunting trip, I replayed every minute detail of her words, her face, her smiles from earlier today.

It felt so _right_, so natural to take Bella into my confidence this afternoon when I told her about my unnaturally long life. Even though I could not tell her every detail of what I am, I could not bring myself to lie to her, either. So I told her a version of the truth. To my amazement, she did not seem shaken or frightened, just relieved to have an answer. She accepted my explanation and did not run away screaming. Her acceptance meant everything to me. It made me dare to hope that, perhaps in time, I could tell her the rest of the story and she would accept that, too. A rush of yearning swelled through me at the very idea of being completely open with Bella and having her accept me despite myself — even though I knew such a thing was probably impossible.

But I also knew that, if anyone was capable of absurd thoughts, it was Bella. I frowned at the memory. It had been so perfect — seeing her waving and smiling at me when she drove by this morning was the most wonderful and unexpected gift I could have received at the beginning of an otherwise dull day. She was so beautiful, such a bright spark in my dreary existence. A few seconds in her presence could lift my spirits for hours.

Granted, I found it frustrating that the most important thoughts in my world were silent to me. But this morning I had easily heard what she said inside her car, speaking her thoughts aloud, making it no different than reading her mind. And, incredibly, hearing what Bella was thinking in those moments was even _more frustrating _than the ordinary silence of her mind. For her to even entertain the notion that she was _plain _or _out of_ _my league _was absolutely preposterous. How could this enchanting creature think so lowly of herself? _Like the Bella of my fantasies?_ It made no sense. Indeed, I resolved to do something about it at my next opportunity.

As I thought about ways to show Bella what a goddess she truly is to me, my legs picked up speed. I had detected the scent of prey in the damp forest air and my body reacted automatically. The ground flew beneath me as I heard the dull sound of a heartbeat not far away. Leaping over fallen logs and flying through the air, I ran without faltering, without hesitation. I felt the wind whip through my hair as I focused on the musky smell of the stag's blood.

I had not quite arrived at the location of my prey when I sensed something that I had not felt in years. It was the pure _presence_ that used to accompany me during the hunt . . . I could feel its sweet tendrils reaching out toward me, close yet far away, never quite able to touch me. My silent and gentle observer had returned. I stopped and took a deep breath, stretching my arms out toward it, knowing I would touch nothing but air. I wanted it to know that it was still welcome.

And just then, in the farthest corner of my vision, I saw the hint of a figure. It was a silhouette of a feminine form. Without knowing why, I simply _knew_ that it was connected to the presence as it darted beyond the limit of my sight. Several times I spun my head in order to see it better, and each time the spritely figure danced just out of view. _If I could only see it_.

I turned my head once more in an effort to see the elusive figure. My movement was so fast that human senses would never have detected it. And I was rewarded with the most fleeting glimpse imaginable. In the barest fraction of a second, I saw the figure, and she saw me as well. Her mouth fell open in surprise.

"My love," I exclaimed, reaching out to touch her. But Bella vanished into nothingness beneath my outstretched hands.

* * *

Whether real or imagined, the sight of Bella so close to me during the hunt did extraordinary things to my bloodlust. Without stopping to think about what had just happened, I rushed toward the edge of the clearing and toward the stag standing there, his chest heaving and his heart racing. I could taste the venom in my mouth and the burn in my throat and the overwhelming thirst that pulsed through me. I dropped down into the tall grass and silently crawled towards my prey, knowing he was mine in mere seconds. I increased my speed and saw him begin to spook as I gathered my legs beneath me and with a roaring growl launched myself at him. In one swift and painless movement, his neck was snapped and my mouth was draining the blood from his jugular.

And as the hot nourishment coated my throat, I could think of only one thing that I wanted more at that moment . . .

BPOV

I sat up holding my throat, heart pounding and chest heaving and an odd taste in my mouth. Holy shit, I hadn't had a dream like that in _years! _Seeing Edward twice today must have set this off. How else to explain his appearance in my dream, reaching out to me and calling me his love?

_Wishful thinking. _

Trying to catch my breath, I thought about the very end of the dream, of feeling myself growl as I flew through the air at my prey. I couldn't place why, but that growl sounded so familiar. Confused and disconcerted, I lay back down. Turning my pillow over, I rolled onto my side and tried to go back to sleep.

_I was dreaming again, but this time I was me, in my own body, in my own room — and when I turned my head there he was, faceless and sitting on the edge of my bed in my darkened room. _

_I could feel his gaze on me as he held out his hand for mine. I reached towards him and he grabbed my hand and pulled, drawing me from the bed while he rose so I was standing in front of him. I noticed then that he was naked, just as I was. I let my eyes graze over his glorious body — lean and sinewy with muscles defined as if an artist had set upon the task of creating an idealized statue of a man and then breathed life into it, placing him right here, right into my dreams._

_His hand came to my face and gently stroked my cheekbone, sliding around to the back of my head and then slowly stroked my hair to my waist, again and again while he moved closer to me, an inch at a time. His breathing grew heavy as his other hand came up to my neck and caressed me down to my shoulders, down my arm and then slowly wrapped around my back, pulling me closer, pulling me into his chest as he continued to stroke my hair. _

"_You don't know how beautiful you are," he whispered. "I wish you saw yourself as I see you." _

_Against his chest I could feel the vibrations as his purr turned into a growl. He held me tighter, plunging his face into my neck as the vibrations grew stronger and he pulled me even closer to him._

"_My love," he growled, "never doubt your perfection." Both hands now slid down my back, lower until he cupped me and pushed me closer to him, letting me feel his arousal against my stomach, grinding slowly into me as his placed opened-mouthed kisses on my neck and shoulders while his hips moved in slow circular motions that set my body on fire. My arms came up from my sides and my palms stroked along his arms, up to his shoulders — feeling every trembling muscle underneath as I clung to him, pressing my bare chest against his as my lips found his neck. _

"_Mmmm," I moaned, unable to stop myself. "Take me. Take me now, please. My body is singing for you," I murmured as I ran my tongue along the smooth skin, tasting his sweetness, tasting his sun and honey scent as I started to grind back into his hips — slowly, sensuously, dancing as we'd never danced before — standing naked and exposed before each other as our love and lust overwhelmed and consumed us._

"_You are mine," he whispered urgently. "You were put on this earth for me and me alone. And I plan to savor you tonight." His growls and purrs filled the room as he kissed along my jaw until he found my mouth and crushed our lips together in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring me. Again I moaned as his growls vibrated our bodies. We were adrift in each other, with each other, trying to get closer to each other, trying to merge, to meld. I felt the smooth wall behind my back as he grabbed me and pressed me tighter against him. We continued our erotic dance, lost in our world and our love. I felt him grinding harder, dancing harder, moaning harder, breathing harder until finally he lifted me in his powerful arms and gently lowered me onto himself, completing our dance as we became one. We both moaned and growled in ecstasy, stopping all movement to simply feel the depth of ourselves united, to feel the love, to feel the completeness. _

_He bent his legs and rammed upward, driving deeper into me as I wrapped my legs around his waist, locked my ankles and pushed back into him, whimpering and biting his neck and crushing my hard nipples into his chest as I tried to get him deeper into me, as he thrust harder, again and again until it was more than I could bear as I found myself falling into him, into his being, into his soul. _

"_Come with me," he breathed into my neck._

"_I love you," passed my lips in a whisper. Then I was lost, barely hearing his startled gasp as I screamed in ecstasy and release and curled myself into him and bit his neck hard._

_Suddenly he stiffened and grabbed me harder and flung back his head._

_And at the top of his lungs, he screamed out my name._

I woke in my bed, tangled in my sheets and breathing heavily. I stared around my room in shock, searching, looking, listening, as the last of the echoes of my name reverberated off the walls. My name never said before in my dreams. My name said by my dream lover with a voice I knew all too well.

**A/N:**

**This chapter is dedicated to Midsummerstars. ;^)**

**Songs for Chapter 18**

44. Where Ya Going?, by Gomez. For Edward as he hunts and sees the fleeting figure of Bella.

45. Praise You, by Fatboy Slim. For Edward's frustration at Bella's low self-esteem.

46. You Should Belong to Me, by Ray LaMontagne. For Edward going to Bella in his fantasy, wanting to claim her.

47. Tonight You Belong to Me, by The Bird & The Bee. For Bella wanting to claim her dream lover in return.

48. Call My Name, by Charlotte Church. For Bella hearing her dream lover call her name.

**You can listen to the all the songs for this story by visiting my profile or going to  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Huge thanks as ever to FantasyMother. More updates to come each weekday this week. **

**Reviews are much appreciated. Also feel free to visit our thread on the Twilighted forum in the Alternate Universe section. ****www[dot]twilighted[dot]net/forum**

**And last but not least, voting begins July 8 for the ****Indie TwiFic Awards, and runs through July 12. PTD is nominated for Best AU Work in Progress and Best Collaboration. We would very much appreciate your support. For more information and to vote, please visit  
www[dot]theindietwificawards[dot]com Thanks!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

* * *

Chapter 19

_**Early November 2009**_

EPOV

I switched off the car's ignition and took a deep breath. I had just pulled into the parking lot of Bella's apartment complex to pick her up for our first real date, and I was desperately trying to stay calm. But this was the most anticipated evening of my long life — and I couldn't keep the smile off of my face.

Arriving a few minutes early, I stepped out of my car and paced, trying to shed my nervous energy. If she had let me, I would have come to her door with a bouquet of flowers in hand, but she had asked that we meet outside, and if that made her more comfortable, I was happy to do it.

Pacing was just making me more nervous, so I leaned against my car and closed my eyes. My thoughts wandered back to my last hunting trip and the presence that had joined me again, after all these years. It _felt_ like Bella. There was a sense of _right_ about it that made me smile even now, thinking of the pure joy of that night. Was it my imagination or had she been there with me in the woods? Was it possible that she felt it, too? How would it manifest for her . . . perhaps as a dream?

I abruptly abandoned this chain of thought when I heard Bella's soft footsteps padding out of her apartment. She captivated my every attention. Even from this distance I could smell the sweet essence of her, hear her elevated heartbeat, and see her beautiful face before she turned and locked her apartment door, about to come out and meet me. My unbeating heart swelled with joy at what a gorgeous creature she was. I couldn't believe my own luck, to be the man she agreed to see tonight.

With a shy smile, she walked towards me. She was simply dressed in jeans and a navy pea coat, a blue silk scarf wrapped delicately around her neck. I froze for an instant. _Her scarf . . . it was the same . . . Not now, no time now — she's almost here._

Her alabaster skin literally shone from within, and her thick chestnut hair cascaded down her shoulders and back, shimmering with gold and red hues in the cloud-filtered light of the setting sun. When she reached me, her eyes lit up and her smile grew bigger — nearly causing me to stagger from the impact of it.

"Bella," I managed to say, still stunned by that gleaming smile.

"Hi," she said softly, looking both happy and bashful.

Daring to place my hand on her coat near the small of her back, I guided her to the car and opened the passenger door.

"You look beautiful," I couldn't resist telling her as she slid into the car. At my words she looked disbelieving and her face flushed. I simply smiled and closed the door before she could deny the compliment.

Walking around the car I tried to still my emotions. I told her the truth — she had never looked more beautiful to me — but I didn't want to overwhelm her with my eagerness.

As I settled into the driver's seat, the scent of her healing injury hit the back of my throat. I stopped and focused, unsure what to expect — but I was pleased to see I was fine — in no danger of losing control — I just hoped the injury was not causing her pain. "How is your arm?"

With a dismissive toss of her head said, "I'm fine Edward, don't worry about me."

I cracked the window to keep some fresh air circulating and turned the heater up higher to make sure she remained comfortable. Now that I was certain I could manage her scent, I was far more concerned about managing my desire for the woman sitting at my side.

Navigating our way out of Binghamton traffic, we sped along the back country roads, and more than once I caught her glancing over at me, taking a deep breath and then looking down, a slight blush coming over her. _What was that about? _

"You really do look lovely today," I told her again, willing her to believe me. Her blush grew more pronounced, but she said nothing.

Switching topics, I asked, "So, have you seen either of the films that we're going to see?"

"I have, actually, but never on the big screen." She stopped and thought a moment. "What about you? Did you see them in a movie theater when they were first released?" Her expression was genuinely curious.

"I did," I admitted a bit reluctantly, worried she might tell me to turn the car around and take her home now that she was reminded what an oddity I am. But when I looked at her, her face was calm, accepting.

"What's it like for you to see them now? Do you think of these as old films, or is it just reminiscing for you?"

"Things were different then," I answered honestly. "Seeing these movies reminds me of the idealism from that time. It was a time of manners, of thinking before you spoke." I paused before continuing. "Of course, there is much to be said of a more open society, too. Being able to spend an evening with you without the requirement of a chaperone, for instance."

Once again color flushed her cheeks and she looked away. When she turned back to me, there was an expression on her face I could not understand.

"Edward," she almost whispered, "I hadn't realized how hard this must be on you, aside from the logistics of trying to live in society without appearing to age. I hadn't thought about what it must be like to see the changes, the trends, the fads. I'd think it must leave you feeling either very old, or very isolated. If nothing else, I do understand isolation . . ." She let that thought trail off, her eyes shining a bit more than usual.

I thought about what Carlisle had shown me of Bella when she was in the hospital. Her face bore the same faraway expression now, hauntingly beautiful, but so lonely. I wanted to comfort her, to take her loneliness away.

A yearning shot through me — and I knew as clearly as I had ever known anything in my life that I wanted to protect Bella, to shield her from this sadness. There was no question that I had always been drawn to her physically, intensely so. But now . . . I felt consumed by her, body and soul.

_Is this what love is? Could I love her even though I barely knew her?_ But I could feel the purity of her spirit, as if it was a physical thing — her compassion and empathy took my breath away.

Yes, this was love, and it took everything I had not to stop the car and gather her into my arms, confess my feelings and hope she wouldn't run.

Instead, I reached my hand towards hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Solitude is not always bad. After all, as Byron wrote, sometimes it is 'in solitude where we are least alone.' "

Encouraged that she had not flinched at the coldness of my skin, I nonetheless brought my hand back to the steering wheel, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. But I couldn't repress a small sigh.

Bella looked up at me and nodded. "That's true," she said with a hint of melancholy that indicated she had a lot of experience with solitude.

We continued in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It felt warm and . . . blissfully _quiet_. Only with Bella could I be with another person and not hear a constant stream of thoughts.

I reached over to the car stereo and turned on the CD that I had been listening to earlier. Glancing over at her, I realized she might not like something as esoteric as jazz fusion. I was about to change the CD when I caught a startled look on her face.

Her mouth was slightly open and she was staring at me, her eyes wide. "Wow," she said. "I have this CD, too. I love Frank Gambale and Chic Corea."

She caught me off guard, but not in an unpleasant way. "Really? Have you ever been to one of their concerts? They're even better live."

"I agree. I saw them a few years ago when I was a student at Cornell. They played at . . ."

. . . at the State Theatre," I said at the same time she did, my face filled with surprise.

"You were there?" I asked incredulously.

"Oh my god," she said. "Yes, I was there." Bella's mind seemed to be racing as she thought back to that night. "I thought I saw . . ." she stammered, then shook her head.

"Are you okay?" I asked. Normally she did not seem so confused. Despite having just been grateful for the silence of her mind, I felt a surge of familiar frustration now that I wanted to know what she was thinking

"No, I'm fine. I just . . . It's just that I remember walking out of the concert that night behind someone, and I think . . . I think it might have been you." Her tone was measured. "I don't . . . I don't know," she said, shaking her head again. "Wow."

"I wish I had known that you were there," I said, speaking my own thoughts aloud. But then it occurred to me that someone as lovely as Bella surely had not attended that concert alone. Something desperate flared inside me as I realized that I might have competition for her affections. "Of course, I'm sure your date would not have wanted to share your company with me," I commented, clearly fishing.

"What?" she asked, then seemed to catch on. "Oh. No, I wasn't on a date that night. I've never really been on many dates."

I didn't try to conceal my relief. I just looked at her meaningfully and said, "Neither have I."

She smiled. And with that, we were back on common ground.

* * *

Four hours in a dark theater seated next to Isabella Swan was both paradise and torture, wrapped up in one beautiful and alluring package. It took every ounce of my self control to remain still, eyes fixed on the screen, and not to lean over and breathe in her floral scent, or touch her soft skin, or taste her sweet lips. The desperate desire to take her, take her right then, left me in a burning hell. But just knowing the real Bella was sitting next to me, breathing the same air as me, well . . . that was a heaven I never thought I would attain.

Again, I wished I could hear her mind. All I knew was that she occasionally took a deep breath, smiled, and glanced at me when she thought I wasn't looking. I was filled with hope, and yet afraid of that hope. More than anything I wanted this night to be a success because I needed to see her after tonight . . . again and again, as much as she would allow. I had to keep reminding myself this was a first date; we had all the time in the world. _All the time in the world to take this breathtaking woman into my arms and . . . No . . . not now_. _You're a gentleman._

It was fortunate I had seen the films before, because I didn't hear a word, didn't watch them for a moment. I was completely and thoroughly immersed in the woman beside me, savoring her scent, listening to her heart beat, feeling the soft heat from her skin, noticing the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

When we walked out of the theater she accidently brushed against me a couple of times — and I hoped that it _wasn't _accidental. I felt a spark each time it happened, and each time she started slightly as if she felt it, too, but her face remained polite, that hint of smile still there. Turning to her, I needed to break the silence.

"Bella, are you hungry?" I was not accustomed to keeping company with someone who had to eat so frequently, and I didn't want to neglect her needs.

She nodded, "I am hungry, but maybe not for a big meal." Looking down the street, her eyes lit up. "I could go for an ice cream cone, though," she said, pointing to a shop on the next block.

"Your wish is my command," I said as I gave her a mock bow with a flourish. It made her giggle. _Music to my ears._

We both turned to walk down the street when it happened. It felt so natural to reach for her hand, and as I did so, she brought her own hand to mine. When I turned to look at Bella she refused to look at me, but her hand was still firmly in my palm, fingers working to lace themselves with my own. In spite of how cold my hand was she said nothing, didn't react, just held it and walked — letting our arms swing gently between us. _I thought I was in heaven before._

Bella chose a chocolate cone. I stood next to her, mesmerized by the way her tongue darted out to lick the ice cream. My mind was flooded with dozens of sensual images, each more erotic than the next. I had to pull myself into the here and now before I lost control. But Bella didn't make things easy on me. I was very nearly undone when a couple of drops of ice cream ran down the cone and onto her knuckles.

"Oops," she said, "I'm a mess." She delicately licked the beads of chocolate from her pale, smooth, skin.

I leaned down and brought my mouth right next to her ear. "You make it look delicious, Bella," I said in a low voice. Her face flushed the deepest red I'd seen yet. _Absolutely lovely. _I couldn't take my eyes off her.

And then she shivered, whether from the temperature or from what I had said, I was unsure. I shrugged out of my jacket and placed it over her shoulders, covering her own coat. "Here, I'm warm enough," I whispered, wrapping one of my arms around her to make sure it didn't slip off. Bella bowed her head and inhaled deeply. Then she turned to me and looked searchingly into my eyes.

And I wished I knew what she was looking for, because in that moment, I would have given her anything.

* * *

"What did you think of the films?" I asked when we were once more in the car and heading back to Binghamton.

"It was wonderful to see them on the big screen instead of on my old TV," she said. "It gave me a new appreciation for them."

"Oh? In what way?" I asked. If I couldn't hear her thoughts, I wanted to hear her voice.

"Well, take Casablanca," she started. "It's always regarded as such a romantic movie." She hesitated for a moment and then continued, "But Rick was wrong when he made decisions for Ilsa. She should have been able to choose the man she wanted to be with. He should have explained his thinking and let her decide between himself and her loveless marriage."

"And To Have and Have Not, well . . . that was completely different. There, two fiercely independent people made the decision to give up their independence because they were better together than they were apart."

I tried to understand the implications of her words. "I've never heard either film interpreted quite that way," I managed to utter.

My mind reeled. Was she saying that she wanted the choice to be with me, even though I am so different from her? Was she saying that she might consider giving up her solitary life to be with me?

"I take it that you would want to make your own choices about love, then?" I could not resist asking.

"Yes," she said, looking at me pointedly. "I would."

"So would I," I said, reaching for her hand and taking it in mine.

I was nearly overwhelmed with the depths of love I was feeling. If I could have, I would have framed this moment of my life.

* * *

As I pulled into the driveway for her apartment I couldn't help but feel wistful — I didn't want this evening to end. I got out of the car and came around to her side, offering her my hand as she stepped out of the vehicle.

Hand in hand, we walked to her apartment door — and reached it all too soon. I took her other hand in mine and smiled down at her.

We were no longer distracted by music, by the films, by the ice cream, by other people, by talk, by laughter. No distractions at all as I could finally gaze into those huge brown eyes. I felt myself falling deeper and deeper into them, so deep I could almost feel the tickle of those thick lashes and I could almost taste her silken skin. As the scent of freesias surrounded me and pulled me in, the lust for her blood become nothing more than an echo in the distance.

"I don't know why you've been so nice to me tonight, Edward, but thank you. I had a wonderful time."

Her words pulled me out of my euphoric reverie. "Bella, what do you mean you don't know why I've been so nice to you?" _Not this again. She really doesn't know how exquisite she is._

"I just mean . . . well, you could have anyone you want." She looked so down on herself in that moment that I made up my mind.

I took her hands and drew her gently towards me and lowered my face to hers. Locking eyes with her, I tilted my head and I could feel her sweet, warm breath drifting across my cold lips. There was no room for doubt or fear as I pressed my lips against hers. Eyes finally closed I again touched her lips with mine, and the taste and electricity caught my breath as I heard her gasp. Her hands left mine and she reached up and flung her arms around my neck, crushing her lips to mine, her body to mine, as I wrapped my arms around her waist and drew her to me — tightly against me as her lips moved against mine, our chests heaving. I broke away for a moment and looked deeply into her eyes, needing to make sure she understood what I was about to say.

"Bella, don't you know? I only want you." And I kissed her again.

She moaned into my mouth and before I could stop myself I purred into hers, pulling her even closer against me when I felt her weight shift and her knees give out and . . .

She collapsed.

_Oh my Bella, my Isabella_. Alarmed, I picked her up and cradled her against me — she had fainted, right there in my arms. Just as I was about to panic, I noticed a lovely flush was on her cheeks and an even lovelier smile was gracing her lips.

BPOV

I came to in Edward's arms with a mixture of embarrassment and euphoria. Had he really just said that he wanted _me_ and given me the best kiss in the history of the world? Oh my god, I think so_. But why did he purr in exactly the same way my dream lover did? _

_Oh, think about it later, Bella! _

And I reached up once more to bring my lips to his.

**A/N: **

**Voting for the Indie TwiFic Awards opens July 9. Perchance to Dream is nominated in the categories of (1) Best Collaboration, and (2) Best AU Work in Progress. We would really, really appreciate your support. To cast your vote, please visit  
www[dot]theindietwificawards[dot]com **

**Songs for Chapter 19**

49. There She Goes, by the La's. For Edward as he watches Bella come out to meet him for their first date.

50. Everyday, by Vetiver. For Edward who is completely smitten and wants to see Bella every day, all the time.

51. Some Surprise, by Gary Lightbody & Lisa Hannigan. Because Edward's lips come as some surprise to Bella.

52. Oxygen, by Colbie Caillat. For Bella, who responds to her first kiss from Edward by passing out.

**Listen to the playlist by visiting my profile or going to  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Huge thanks as ever to FantasyMother. Please feel free to visit our thread on the Twilighted forum in the Alternate Universe section.  
www[dot]twilighted[dot]net/forum**

**New chapters will be posted tomorrow and Friday. Please leave a review and let us know how you like the story.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

* * *

Chapter 20

_**December, 2009**_

BPOV

_I stared up into his intense, golden eyes. His cool fingers held my hand and raised it slowly to his lips, which he grazed gently across my knuckles. "I had a lovely time tonight Bella, can I see you again tomorrow?"_

I opened my eyes. It took a few seconds for me to focus on the white tile walls and the cold black bench of the university lab. A collection of Petri dishes was on my right, a microscope in front of me, a tray of slides and forms on my left — and I was alone. I really needed to get some work done, but I was finding it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything besides memories of time that I had recently spent with Edward. I settled my chin back onto my hand, closed my eyes and thought back to the previous weekend . . .

_We were playing in the snow at Elk Mountain, Edward tossing snowballs at me while I ducked and ran and tried to hit him with at least one! I was cold and flushed and laughing until my sides hurt, Edward laughing with me as he ran over and grabbed me, flinging both of us down, tumbling and rolling in the snow. I only stopped laughing when he grabbed me tightly and crushed his lips to mine. His kiss grew urgent and my body grew so hot it was a wonder the snow didn't melt around us._

I shivered when I thought about the cold, but rubbed my thighs together when I thought about his kisses.

_A quiet Saturday evening in his mother's bookstore, sitting next to him on an overstuffed loveseat in an isolated corner, pressed next to each other sharing a book between us, reading to each other and stopping to discuss what we'd read. Speaking in hushed voices with an occasional kiss — because we couldn't stop kissing. I had never felt so much happiness, never felt so fulfilled._

I found myself laughing out loud at other memories.

_One Sunday morning as we were getting ready to leave my apartment, Edward grabbed my blue silk scarf and held it above my head, making me jump and giggle as he spun around keeping it just out of my reach. Stupid tall boyfriend. And then he stopped, and our eyes locked, and he held the scarf to his nose as if he was smelling the most fragrant ambrosia, and gently wrapped it around my neck — leaning down to give me the softest of kisses._

And I sighed and smiled at the best memory, the very best . . .

_The quiet evening I took a walk along the river, stopped and leaned on the railing and thought of Edward, thanking whatever had brought him into my life, when I caught his wondrous scent of sun and honey just as I felt his arms encircle my waist. He buried his face into my neck and just held me as I leaned back into him, no words necessary as we felt our lives weaving together._

I surprised myself when I felt a few tears escaping the corners of my eyes. In all my life I had never been filled with such outrageous joy, but I couldn't deny the joy was laced with a small amount of guilt. As incredible as it might seem, there was a part of me that felt like I was betraying my dream lover. I hadn't dreamed of him since my first date with Edward, and although I found myself wondering why, I also couldn't help feeling relieved. I had no idea what I would say to my lover of so many years, no idea how I could tell him another man, a flesh-and-blood man, had entered my life. And I certainly did not want to tell Edward about my dream lover.

A few more tears trickled down my cheek before I could stop them.

"Don't tell me the slime mould died . . . should we schedule the funeral?" came a grave voice from across the lab. Startled, I looked up into a pair of sparkling, golden eyes, and I saw the hint of a grin threatening to overwhelm the serious expression he tried so desperately to hold. All melancholy thoughts disappeared as I jumped up, ran around the table, threw my arms around his waist and laughed. Breaking away, I grabbed a Petri dish and held it out reverently.

"Alas poor Yoric, I knew him Horatio."

Following my lead, Edward cast his eyes down, held his hand to his chest, and quoted the next line from Hamlet. "A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy . . . " And then he started to shake with quiet laughter.

Edward looked at me and said in a teasing tone, "Bella, I never thought I would be so lucky as to find someone who can quote Shakespeare while joking about the death of slime mould. Where have you been all my life?" he could no longer control his delight as he laughed a bit louder and pulled me close.

I swatted at him playfully. "Oh, don't make fun of me. You started it. That puts us both on the geek squad." I smiled and hugged him back, loving the feel of him so close.

"Fine," he said, chuckling. "As long as we're on it together."

My laughter stopped, and I looked up at him, reaching with one of my hands to cup his face. Where had he come from? How could one person change my life so thoroughly? He understood my change in mood and pulled me into him, resting his chin on the top of my head, and with a sigh of contentment rubbed my back, holding the moment for us, letting us feel together, be together.

"So," he broke the comfortable silence, "I have an idea." He leaned back to catch my eyes. "Would you like to come to my house today?" My eyes grew wide. _Did he want me to meet his family? Am I ready for that?_ I tried to conceal my anxiety — this was the first relationship I'd ever had, and it was moving forward at its own pace with no real effort on our part. _But meeting his family . . . the simple act of allowing others into this_ . . . _I didn't know if I was ready for it._ _Could I tell him? _

"Edward," I laid my cheek against his chest, praying he'd understand. "Of course I'd love to see where you live." I took a deep breath and asked, "Will your family be there?" I couldn't help it, as hard as I tried my voice shook as the words came out, revealing the painfully shy woman I tried so hard not to be with him.

His response was, as usual, exactly what I needed. Nuzzling the top of my head with his nose, he said, "As much as I would love to show you off, Bella, today is just going to be us, if you don't mind."

And with that, all my tension evaporated — we were just Bella and Edward again, and I had nothing to fear.

And then I remembered . . . Drat. Trying not to sound too whiny, I said, "I can't go. I have to finish these reports." I looked over at the bench and the observations waiting for my categorization. "It's going to take another couple of hours," I lamented.

His face lit up and he sauntered over to the lab computer, sat down and looked over at me expectantly. "You dictate, I'll type, we'll be out of here in an hour." His enthusiasm was infectious, but I was slightly hesitant. We'd never worked on anything together — we barely even discussed my lab work before. I wasn't sure how this would go.

I never should have doubted him. It turned out that we worked together flawlessly. Not only that, but he asked me questions along the way that revealed a knowledge so deep, he rivaled my professors.

"Tell me, Edward," I said after he made a comment that was so advanced I practically had to get out my textbook to follow him. "Is studying the reproductive cycle of slime mould a hobby of yours?"

"No," he tried to be nonchalant. "These days _you're_ my primary hobby." He shot me a mischievous look.

"Then how do you know so much about molecular biochemistry?" I asked. "This stuff is really hard, even for people who devote all their waking hours to studying it, and yet it trips off your tongue like there's nothing to it."

"I don't know, Bella," he said earnestly. "I don't mean to imply that it isn't hard." He shrugged. "It's just not as hard when you've studied it all before."

And then I remembered what he said about having been through grad school a few times. I wondered just how many times "a few" was, and what else he might have studied. I looked over at my handsome, humble genius of a boyfriend as he typed. He looked completely unfazed by what he'd just said to me.

And once again I marveled at the fact that this man was my boyfriend, this man wanted _me._

* * *

In less than an hour we were powering down, packing up, and rushing out the door. It was another cloudy day but not too cold for a change — just hovering around freezing. Not bad for these parts. Although there had been a lot of heavy snow, the campus walkways were always kept immaculately clear, and so I was dressed in regular shoes and a light winter coat.

And then I remembered that Edward had said his house was out in the country, in an isolated location. I didn't think my outfit was going to cut it.

"Edward," I asked him, "would you mind if we swing by my apartment so I can get some warmer clothes?" He looked at the high snow banks around campus and turned to me, nodding.

"Of course, Bella," he agreed, "I don't want you to be uncomfortable." As if struck by sudden inspiration, he said, "Hey, get your snow boots, too, okay? I'd love to take you for a walk in the woods."

Internally, I cringed at the thought of trying to walk in snow, knowing my butt would be in danger of hitting the ground more often than my feet, but maybe with Edward there to catch me . . . I nodded in agreement, grabbed his hand and started walking excitedly to our cars. He let me lead and made a playful show of acting like I was dragging him, but I could see the happiness in his eyes.

When we got to my apartment, I ran to my door, shouting over my shoulder for him to wait and that I'd be back out in just a couple of minutes. Once inside I rushed around, changing into heavy jeans, warm socks, and my snow boots. I was grabbing my down jacket and wool gloves when I decided to do something just the tiniest bit sneaky.

All I wanted was to catch a quick glimpse of Edward when he didn't know I was looking. I made my way over to the peephole in my apartment door. It was simple, innocent curiosity. I wanted to see what he was doing, to see if he wore the same goofy grin that was always stuck on my face these days.

Slipping on my gloves I put my eye to the door and froze. For a second I could have sworn I saw his golden eye looking back at me. But then there was nothing but a blur, a streak of out-of-focus motion. I blinked, and when I opened my eye again I saw him standing at his car, not even breathing hard.

_There was no way I had seen what I thought I just saw . . ._

But before I could think more about it — damn! I was seized with a sudden sharp, stabbing pain right behind my eyes, accompanied by a wave of dizziness. I leaned against the door and held my head in my gloved hands. Then, just as abruptly as it came, the pain was gone.

I looked up, blinking the tears from my eyes. _Sinuses,_ I thought to myself, grabbing my purse and opening the door. _Cold, dry air and sinuses — they'll get you every time_. I closed the door and locked it, thinking about getting back to Edward, and consciously _not_ thinking about the blur I had just seen and the pain I had just felt.

_Put it away_ — _add it to your ever-growing list of hallucinations and mental aberrations. And don't tell Edward_. _Ever._

_* * *_

After Edward had told me about his long-lived family, I thought I understood how much they needed privacy. Yet I was still stunned as he drove us through the woods down a 2 mile-long driveway. It was neatly and meticulously plowed but still a dirt road that required careful navigation. There was a tall iron gate about 50 feet in from the road. Edward used a remote to open it without getting out of his car, and it closed automatically after we passed through. With thick woods and thicker undergrowth on both sides of the road, it was easy to see how they kept the ATV and snowmobile riders away.

As he drove us around a final bend in the road, Edward glanced over at me, and when I looked out the windshield again I gasped. Set in a small meadow was a huge Painted Lady Victorian house — restored to pristine condition — complete with more than one round turret. I was still staring while Edward parked the car, walked around and opened my door, offering me his hand.

"Do you like it?" he asked me. Not waiting for my answer, he continued excitedly, "It has been my mother's project for years. She even researched the colors and had them duplicated." I looked up at him, suddenly feeling small, insignificant, and poor. It was an uncomfortable feeling, as if our private bubble had burst and reality seeped in. I hadn't realized how wealthy he and his family were, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it.

Edward saw my discomfort immediately. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me out of the car and wrapped an arm around my waist.

"Bella," he said soothingly. "I was trying to impress you, not intimidate you. It's only a house, a place to live and no more. If it's beautiful, it's a reflection of my mother, who put her heart and soul into the restoration. If it's large, it's because seven adults live here, and that many adults need their space and privacy." He lowered his head and peered into my eyes, willing me to see the meaning behind his words. "Sweetheart, it's just a _thing_. And it's all ours for the afternoon." He smiled widely and led me towards the front porch.

He was right, of course. It didn't matter that his bank account must be huge and I only had $50 to my name until the next stipend check arrived. As awkward as I felt, I knew what we shared was big enough to overcome just about anything. So I swallowed my self-doubt and put on a brave face. He and his family had lived a long time — it was only to be expected they had accumulated money, and I would do my damnedest not to feel self-conscious about it.

The interior of the house was as traditional and beautiful as the outside. Edward put a hand on the small of my back and guided me into a living room off the central hallway, and then to a smaller parlor on the right, with a dining room behind it. It felt lived in, yet at the same time like a museum as I realized all the furnishings were period pieces. We walked through the rooms, over the rich oriental rugs laid over golden oak flooring, back to the kitchen.

This wasn't just a kitchen. Unlike the rest of the house this kitchen was a marvel in everything modern that a kitchen could be. Entering the space, I felt as if I had walked into the page of a decorating magazine, or a brochure for kitchen cabinetry, or a catalog for high-end appliances. It was perfect — maybe too perfect. Every surface gleamed, not a speck of dirt could be found, not a drop of grease anywhere. It could have been installed yesterday. It was so immaculately clean I wondered if anyone ever cooked in here.

Edward noticed my puzzled expression and grabbed my hand, leading me to the rear of the house. "Come this way, Bella," there was a hint of urgency in his voice, and I let him pull me along. "I want to show you my favorite room, what I hope will be your favorite as well."

We walked through a doorway into a circular room, the lower level of the rear turret, I assumed. The rounded walls were glass from floor to ceiling, and the view was spectacular. In the middle of the room stood a highly polished, baby grand piano.

"You play the piano?" I asked, and he looked down, momentarily shy. I grinned — why was I not surprised?

Reaching for his hand, I walked him over to the instrument. "Will you play for me?"

Wordlessly, he sat down at the piano bench and tugged on my hand until I sat next to him. He turned to look at me, eyes searching mine for a moment, and kissed me lightly on the mouth.

Then he turned back to the piano and started playing, slowly at first, sweetly, caressing the keys and sending the music swirling around us. I was caught in the moment, caught in the beauty as I watched him — his eyes shut tight, sweet emotion on his face as he allowed the music to take him, capture him, draw him in as he gave and it gave back. I was so entranced watching him play I hardly heard the music itself.

But when I did focus on the music, I froze.

I glanced at Edward, thankful he wasn't looking at me because I'm certain I turned as white as a ghost. I knew this song. I had heard it again and again when my dream lover came to me. There was no mistaking it, and although I'd never heard it anywhere else I _knew_ it as well as I knew my own heartbeat. I didn't know what to say, I didn't know what to do . . . my heart was pounding and it took every ounce of effort to try to calm myself. I needed an answer. _Would I get one?_

I had tears in my eyes when he finished playing. "That was so beautiful, Edward," I whispered and reached up to run a hand through his hair, hoping he'd mistake my trembling as merely a reaction to the music. "Who wrote that song?"

He looked down at the keys, sitting quietly before turning to me, a heartbreaking look in his eyes. "I wrote it, actually. It's something I've been playing for the last few years. I hoped you would like it."

I looked deeper into his eyes, searching for some way to make sense of this. _This was not possible. What was going on here? _My chest constricted as my longstanding fear that I was mentally ill threatened to overtake me. _Why did everything seem linked, like a path already trod?_

Suddenly I thought of the gorge by Cornell, the void, the voice. The memories of my loneliness, my bitterness, and my all-encompassing sorrow came flooding back — the memory of the _thing_ that turned me away from the edge of the abyss. And I thought again about my dream lover and the music in those dreams, and how I hadn't dreamed of him since I met Edward.

_Stop it, Bella, this isn't the time! _Forcefully, I pushed the thoughts away.

Edward was looking at me patiently, puzzled by my expression, but he didn't press for answers.

I got to my feet. "Let's take that walk now, okay? I could use some fresh air."

Edward simply nodded and stood with me. "Okay." He didn't ask me what was wrong, even though he knew something was off. And with that simple act of giving me my space, he claimed another piece of my heart.

* * *

Outside, we walked along paths that I assumed had been made by some kind of animals. The snow was packed down and fairly easy to traverse. The forest looked like something out of a fairy tale, a quiet, winter landscape with snow-covered majestic trees reaching for the skies. I held Edward's gloved hand and we walked without talking, enjoying the peace and enjoying each other, occasionally glancing at each other and catching ourselves smiling. With each moment, with every hour, with every day, I found myself more drawn to him, closer to him. As an introvert, I had always avoided people and felt content unto myself, but now I knew he was a part of me, a missing piece that was quietly reinserting itself back into my soul — making me whole and complete.

"Edward," I whispered, afraid to disturb the silence of the forest, "do you believe in fate? You know, destiny?"

He stopped and turned to me, surprised at my words. "I was just about to ask you the same thing," he whispered. "Do you realize how unlikely this is?" He gently squeezed my hand. "We met for a brief moment in time six years ago — we didn't speak to each other, never even know each other's names — and by some quirk we both wound up in the same city on the other side of the continent. The odds against that happening are astronomical."

He paused for a moment, appearing deep in thought. "And even more unlikely, we actually found each other here. People live out their entire lives in the same city and never meet — yet we did." He grabbed my other hand and drew me towards him, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close to his chest.

I stood there, cocooned in his arms, and breathing in his sun and honey scent. So many things made no sense at all — too many coincidences, too many circumstances drawing us together.

"Do you sometimes feel as if we've been guided here?" I looked at him, hoping he wouldn't think I was crazy.

He met my gaze, eyes burning into mine while once again all time stopped — it was just Edward and me in our bubble as he leaned down to me and softly brushed his lips against mine.

"Bella," he whispered. "In all the years we were separated, I never stopped thinking about you, wondering where you were. We barely met back in Forks, but you were branded into my mind from the first moment I laid eyes on you."

My eyes grew wide, and before I could say a word, before I could question him, before I could utter a protest and try to tell him this wasn't rational, he leaned down and crushed his lips to mine — urgently, passionately, drawing me closer to him while I grabbed onto him and met passion for passion, caring about nothing more at that moment. I was a single-minded entity wanting, begging, pleading, feeling myself melt into him as the last piece of my heart was offered up for his taking, as I could feel his own offered up to me.

**A/N: **

**Voting for the Indie TwiFic Awards is open now through July 13 at Midnight EST. Perchance to Dream is nominated in the categories (1) Best Alternate Universe Work in Progress, and (2) Best Collaboration. We would really, really appreciate your support. For more information and to cast your vote, please visit www . theindietwificawards . com**

**Songs for Chapter 20**

53. All This Beauty, by the Weepies. For Bella at the lab, trying unsuccessfully to concentrate on anything other than Edward.

54. A Sorta Fairytale, by Tori Amos. For Bella, who is living her own sort of fairytale with Edward.

55. Melt With You, by Nouvelle Vague. For Bella, who feels like she's melting into Edward at the end of the chapter.

56. Brighter Than Sunshine, by Aqualung. For Edward, who is so happy with Bella he cannot even believe it. (Shout-out to brighterthansunshine28!)

**Listen to the playlist by visiting my profile or going to  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Huge thanks as ever to FantasyMother. Feel free to visit our thread on the Twilighted forum in the Alternate Universe section.  
****www . twilighted . net/forum**

**One more chapter this week — tomorrow. Thanks to everyone who has favorited, alterted, or reviewed this story. You are all awesome. **


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

Chapter 21

_**Late December, 2009**_

BPOV

The next several weeks with Edward were the happiest of my life. We spent more and more time together, and if I wasn't in class, in the lab, or sleeping, I was with Edward. To anyone else, it might have been suffocating to spend so much time with a boyfriend, but to me, it was never too much. I couldn't get enough. When I was with him, nothing else mattered.

Life went on, of course, and I didn't lose sight of my responsibilities. I still focused on my graduate studies and did all those day-to-day things like grocery shopping, paying the bills, putting gas in the car, and everything else that made up my daily life. It was just that now, when I did those things, Edward was by my side. Well, actually, Edward took my car once a week and put the gas in it, because he knew I didn't like to. And, oh my god, it was such a simple thing, but the first time he took out the garbage for me, it made me so happy that he'd done it ever since. He said it was a small price to pay to be rewarded with a flurry of kisses, and he wished I generated more trash so he could take that out, too. When I reminded him that it wouldn't be environmentally responsible, he jokingly moaned and asked me to "stop talking dirty." I just giggled in his arms and kissed a path to his earlobe, making him sigh contentedly and squeeze me just a little bit tighter.

We went to his house a few more times, and each time I grew more relaxed, choosing to enjoy the beauty of what his mother created rather than be intimidated by it. On our next visit he took me to his room and, as I had guessed, he had claimed the turret room as his own. It was a fascinating insight into his mind, into his life. His CD collection was without parallel, and his personal collection of books spilled out of the bookcases — stacked neatly on the floor. The lack of a bed puzzled me, but he explained his couch was a convertible, offering him a more comfortable place to sit when he read or listened to music.

All in all, it was an organized mess that made me feel immediately comfortable, even if I did eye that couch on more than one occasion, feeling just a bit of heat in my face each time I did.

Our physical relationship was progressing, but we hadn't yet . . . you know. We spent a lot of time kissing, and our hands had roamed freely over each other's bodies through our clothes. And just the other night, his hands roamed freely _under _my shirt . . . Still, we were taking things pretty slowly, without consciously focusing on a timetable. We just did what seemed natural. I trusted Edward, and I never told him to stop. I was ready for the next step, and I thought he was, too. It seemed inevitable and . . . imminent, but not in a rushed way, just in a way that felt _right_.

I couldn't get over how dramatically my life had changed. Basically, things were perfect.

* * *

It was a normal weeknight, like any other, and Edward had just walked through my apartment door, smiling that crooked smile that I loved so much. He carried a brown paper bag that smelled suspiciously like Cheong's Buffet, the Chinese restaurant from down the street.

"Hi," he said, leaning down to kiss the top of my head. "I thought you might be tired so I brought you some dinner. I already ate with my family."

"Mmm," I said, wrapping my arms around his waist and squeezing. "Thank you."

He went over to the kitchen counter and started unloading the takeout containers, fishing out the utensils and napkins from the bottom of the bag. "Sit down, I'll bring it to you."

As he cheerfully made his way around my small kitchen, I thought again how lucky I was to have Edward Cullen for a boyfriend. I didn't know what twist of fate had sent him my way, I just knew that I never wanted to let him go, and I hoped with all my heart he felt the same.

"Oh, hey, by the way, I finished that book we were talking about yesterday. You're going to love it," he said as he put a plate down in front of me.

He was talking about a new release by one of our favorite authors. He had called me from his mother's book store just the day before to see if I wanted him to get me a copy. I told him that I would just borrow his. There was no way either of them would let me pay, and if I borrowed his copy, his mother would end up giving away only one book, not two.

"You _finished _it already?" I asked, surprised that he'd made his way through it so quickly. "That book is 700 pages long. How could you finish it already?"

He didn't answer, he just grinned at me.

I groaned in mock annoyance. "How is it that you are so good at everything? You are Mr. Superlative. I can't keep up with you."

He looked at me with soft eyes. "No, Bella, don't say that. I've just got a lot more time on my hands than you do. High school was never much of a challenge the first time around, but it is absolutely effortless now — whereas you're doing your graduate studies and working 20 hours a week in the lab. You have a lot more occupying your time than I do."

He was right, of course. But still, I didn't let it go. "I know, Edward, but you just picked up that book yesterday when you called me. And then you were with me until about midnight. What did you do, stay up all night?"

"Uh . . . " he said sheepishly.

"You did, didn't you?"

Slowly he nodded.

"My gosh," I teased him, "I've never seen you eat, you don't seem to sleep, you don't age, you're super strong, you're good at _everything_ . . . What are you, a vampire or something?" I giggled while I tried to spear a piece of food with my chop stick.

I thought he would laugh with me, but instead he froze and just stared at me.

"Bella . . ." He looked nervous. He didn't say anything else, but he kept looking at me like he thought I should run away.

"Edward?" He was starting to scare me — I'd never seen him act like this.

"I . . . I didn't want . . . " he stammered.

And then I just _knew. _Oh my god, it had been right in front of my face this whole time. Images flashed through my mind, going all the way back to that first day in Forks when I saw him run too fast across the parking lot. Like a slideshow, I replayed the incident with the bookcase, the time I looked through the peephole and saw him move so fast that he was only a blur, all the times he'd made excuses for not eating, the cool temperature of his skin, the times I'd dozed off in his arms when we were watching movies late at night but I never, not once, caught him sleeping.

"Edward, you _are_ a vampire, aren't you?"

I felt strangely calm about this, as if it was the most natural thing to discover about your boyfriend — like finding out he wore colored contacts and never bothered to tell you. _Have I truly changed that much with all the bizarre things that happened to me over the years? Am I_ _so quick to accept the possibility of what I once thought of as fairy tales or the supernatural? _

_Yes,_ I thought to myself, _I could accept this_. The supernatural is just an unknown before it becomes known. I looked at Edward with a new level of fascination. _So much to learn . . . _

He took a deep breath and let it out. Then he looked at me imploringly. "I didn't want to frighten you." He reached his hands toward me but stopped just short of touching me. Then he looked down in defeat. "I'll understand if you want me to go."

"Want you to go? What are you talking about?" He looked up at me, the pain in his face so devastating I felt my heart twist in response.

"Well, you just found out that your boyfriend is a monster. Isn't that enough?" A _monster?_ No. How could he think that?

"It's going to take a lot more than that to get rid of me. So if you're planning on going somewhere, you better let me know what to pack, because I'm coming with you." I was trying to lighten his mood, but it wasn't working too well. I could still feel the tension radiating off him.

His eyes dropped to the floor again, his brow furrowed, his breaths coming rapidly. "Edward," I said, leaning down and trying to meet his gaze, "look at me, please." When he lifted his face, his expression was tortured.

Looking directly in his eyes, I told him in no uncertain terms how I felt.

"Edward, I love you. I don't care what you are." I hoped he could hear the conviction in my voice, the sincerity of my words. I reached across the table and grazed my fingertips against his cool cheekbone, cupping his face in my hand and willing him to believe me. "You are not a monster, Edward, you are the most wonderful man I have ever known." I gazed into his astonished eyes, those beautiful and soft golden eyes.

He moved so fast he was a blur again. Before I knew it I was in his arms and he had lifted me off my feet. I wrapped my arms and legs around him as he kissed every inch of my face and neck. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he murmured over and over again.

I threw my head back as he ran kisses down my neck towards my shoulders. I could barely talk, but I could still whisper endearments to him, feeling my love for him grow to the point that I ached with it. My heart was racing as I reached out, searching for his lips, needing to feel them on mine, needing him to feel the depths of my love. Grabbing his face in my hands I kissed him with all the heady emotion I was feeling. I could feel his breath hitch as he met my lips with so much passion that it escalated my own as his tongue carefully explored my mouth, and his scent invaded every cell in my body and drew me closer to him, burning with passion for him, needing him _now._

"Edward," I whispered as I broke away from his lips, "take me to the bedroom." He pulled back for a moment and looked into my eyes, judging my intent, my sincerity. I smiled and kissed him softly. "Please," I said against his lips, "please make love to me. Let me make love to you." I licked his lips, tasting his scent. He trembled against me, and slowly walked us down the hallway, kissing me softly, holding me gently, and letting me feel his love in every touch as we gradually made our way to my bed.

He set me on the edge of the bed and knelt between my legs. Holding my face in his hands he brushed his lips against mine. "You must tell me if I do anything at all that hurts you. Promise me, love." I nodded my head quickly, almost dismissively. I was certain he would never do anything to hurt me.

"Bella, I love you. I have only ever loved you, and I have loved no one before you," he whispered against my lips. I shivered as he ran his fingers through my hair, smoothed his hands over my neck. He held the back of my head, pressing his lips more firmly against mine, moving over them, savoring them, tasting them.

He pulled back for a moment and fingered the hem of my shirt, searching my eyes for permission. I raised my arms above my head in answer, feeling the air caress my body as he slowly drew my shirt up and over my head, tossing it away. I tried not to be self-conscious as his eyes followed his hands to my collarbones, fingers tracing a path over my shoulders, down my sternum to the edge of my bra and back up again. His cool fingers ignited me as I felt my body trembling in anticipation. He raised his eyes back to mine, and if I felt a moment's embarrassment it was gone as I saw adoration, love, and yearning in his eyes as he leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine.

"You are beautiful Bella, more beautiful than I ever imagined." He trailed kisses across my cheek and to my ear as he ran his hands down my back, reached the clasp of my bra and flicked it open. His hands were back to my shoulders and he slid the straps down my arms. My bra fell to the floor between us.

I should have been nervous, I should have felt a multitude of emotions as I was exposed to my lover for the first time. But instead all I could feel was the heat building in me, my nipples hardening as the cool air hit them, and more than anything else, my overwhelming love for the man before me as he placed soft kisses down my neck, grazing his hands over my breasts as he brought his lips down to them for his first taste.

My purrs sang with his as he took me in his mouth, gently, keeping his teeth away as his tongue circled me, as his lips kissed and teased, as his hand cupped my other breast and lightly rubbed my peak. My heart was hammering and all I could feel was his mouth, his hand, his love, my love, and the fire building in me, relentlessly burning through my body as I needed him, needed more of him.

I slowly fell back onto the bed, his mouth following me, never stopping, caressing, adoring every inch of my breasts. One hand slid down my stomach to the button of my jeans, and I drew in a shaking breath as the button was undone, the zipper slowly lowered as I felt a cool hand reverently reach down and brush light fingers through my curls.

It was too much, nothing had ever felt like this, my dreams had never felt this intense, this incredible. My body was alive and shaking with need, need for Edward and nothing else. I moaned and arched my back, begging him, holding his head to my breast as I ran my fingers through his silken hair. I was all sensation, tingling and burning as his cool mouth continued to tease and kiss and lick. With a soft growl he slid my jeans and panties down my hips, down my legs until they pooled at my feet. The cool air hit me as his cooler hand stroked my belly, my thighs, ghosting over where I wanted him most as he continued to tease my breasts with his wondrous mouth.

I couldn't take it any longer, I was on fire, I needed him, I needed him now. "Edward," my voice was strained and cracking, my breathing was uncontrolled. "Take me, Edward, take me now, make me yours."

He growled, primitive and vibrating through the air as he stood above me and captured my eyes while his eyes smoldered into mine, pupils dilated and black with desire, with need, his body trembling as he tore off his shirt, hands shaking as he unbuttoned his jeans and slowly lowered the zipper. I couldn't take my eyes off him, roaming over his perfect body — his lean muscles, feeling the strength pouring off him held in check with fierce concentration, the raging desire in his eyes, and as he stood before me naked for the first time, my own desire for him, to have him touch me, to fill me, to be inside me, to make me his, to make him mine, ignited me, inflamed me, overwhelmed me . . . I whimpered as he knelt before me, running his hands up my legs, stroking the inside of my thighs. "Edward I am yours, make me yours," I whispered as I reached for him — needing to feel him, touch him, let his cool skin ease my burning. My heart was pounding, I could barely see — just feel as his hands slid to where I needed him, feeling my readiness, my trembling, my uncontrolled lust for him and need for him _now._

"Mine," he said softly, in a tone that sounded surprised and awed. He kissed my belly and made his way up my body, his chest grazing over my hard nipples as his legs gently pushed my knees apart. "Mine," he repeated as he bent down and kissed my breasts, sliding one hand under my hip as he lowered his body. "I love you, Bella" his burning eyes met mine as he gently pressed against me, sliding into me slowly, trembling with control, with need, with desire, slowly entering me, filling me, loving me, taking me.

"Edward, I love you," I whimpered as I brought my hips towards his and wrapped my legs around his waist, sliding my hands down his back. Nothing, nothing had been like this, nothing had ever felt like this, nothing ever made me burn like this as I captured his mouth with mine in a searing kiss and poured every ounce of my love out to him.

I was his. He was mine. And there was nothing but the two of us as we spun through time, through space, burning in our need and consumed by our love, the other half of ourselves finally coming home as we both cried out in release, holding onto each other and basking in the earth-shattering discovery of true and all-encompassing love.

* * *

Later, much later, when we were lying in my bed, I was awestruck by how extraordinarily fascinating it is to be in love with a vampire. Holding me in his arms, softly caressing my back, Edward told me all about himself, how long he had been a vampire, how he had become one, and various myths versus realities of vampirism.

I learned about his family, and how and why they chose to limit themselves to animal instead of human blood. How his father had learned it would sustain them and helped the rest of them through the process of learning to resist. I was dumbfounded to hear how old his father was, and was looking forward to long talks with him about the London of his birth.

When Edward told me he had to stay out of the sunlight because it made him sparkle, I made him promise to show me one day soon. It was hard to imagine how he could be any more beautiful, but if anyone could outdo himself, he could. I blushed a bit, thinking of making love to him as he sparkled in the sunlight. Edward noticed my blush and smirked, knowing exactly what I was thinking.

When he told me he'd never wanted anyone's blood as much as he wanted mine, it . . . well, it _turned me on_. I knew it was wrong, but I'd never felt so _wanted_ in such a primal way. It made me feel powerful. But not so powerful that I didn't feel relieved when he told me how hard he had worked to desensitize himself to his lust for my blood. Hearing how he had learned to control his thirst made me feel safe. And, as he had just shown me, he had other kinds of lusts that were just as primal and made me feel just as wanted.

It was good to finally have an explanation for his behavior in Forks and the way he denied recognizing me when we saw each other again here in Binghamton. Holding each other close, we both lamented the time that we'd lost before finding each other again, but mainly I was just happy to be with him now, despite the strange twists of fate that had separated us and reunited us again. I thought back to our conversation about fate and destiny, and pulled myself closer to him, kissing his chest and snuggling into his arms. If this was outside interference, I'd take it any day.

I couldn't resist giving him a little bit of a hard time, though.

"So, you're telling me that you ran from me . . . and lied to me . . . because you wanted me so much?"

"When you put it like that, you make it sound so bad," he said, rolling his eyes. "I was _trying_ to protect you. I couldn't imagine that you would want to be with me, too."

"For such a smart guy, that was pretty . . . not-smart of you," I said, leaning up to kiss his lips even as I laughed. I had already forgiven him, of course. It was obvious that he had just been trying to do the right thing.

"Just don't go off and decide that you need to leave me for my own good again, okay?" I added. "We both said we want to make our own choices about love, remember?" One look in his eyes and I knew he remembered our conversation about Casablanca during our first date.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he said, and looked chastened. But before he could feel too guilty, I nestled my head into the crook of his neck and started slowly kissing him, while my hand reached under the covers and caressed his stomach. When I dipped my hand even lower, he gasped and tightened his hold on me. "I have an idea of how you can make it up to me, Edward . . ."

* * *

We spent that first night exploring . . . not just physically, but exploring the facts of our pasts, and talking about who we really were. I had never felt so intimately connected to anyone.

When he told me about his mindreading ability, I was immediately intrigued.

"So wait," I asked. "Does that mean that you can cross distances with your mind, too? Be one place in your mind even if you are physically somewhere else?"

"I don't _think _so, Bella," he said a bit hesitantly. "What makes you ask that?" All of a sudden he seemed a bit unsure of himself and his own ability, like he really didn't know the right answer to my question.

"Oh, nothing really, I just thought, well . . . if you could come see _me_ with your mind, it might expl— . . ." and I trailed off. "But never mind," I said with a shrug. "You already said that you can't read my thoughts anyway, so I don't guess you'd be able to visit me by using your mind even if it was part of your special ability."

He was quiet for a moment, then pulled me closer and leaned down to kiss my forehead. "Oh, Bella," he sighed. "If I did have that power, there is only one person on earth I'd want to cross distance to reach. And that is you, my love."

We were both contemplative for a while after that. And although I was blissfully ensconced in the arms of my real-live lover, my thoughts inexorably drifted to my first love, the one who had come before Edward . . . my dream lover. And I felt a sudden wave of sadness as I realized I was going to have to let the dream go.

Because reality was holding me tightly in his arms.

**A/N: **

**Voting for the Indie TwiFic Awards is open now through Monday, July 13. Perchance to Dream is nominated in the categories of (1) Best Alternate Universe Work in Progress, and (2) Best Collaboration. We would really, really appreciate your support. To vote, please visit  
www[dot]theindietwificawards[dot]com/vote[dot]aspx****  
**

**Songs for Chapter 21**

57. Ride, by Cary Brothers. For Edward when Bella guesses that he's a vampire, and for the lyric, "if I told you you were right, would you take my hand and ride?"

58. Oh The Vampyre, by A.A. Bondy. For Edward's confession that he's a vampire.

59. The Way I Am, by Ingrid Michaelson. For Bella, who loves Edward the way that he is, just as he loves her.

**Listen to the playlist by visiting my profile or going to  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Huge thanks as ever to FantasyMother. Please feel free to drop by our thread on the Twilighted forum in the Alternate Universe section. ****www[dot]twilighted[dot]net/forum**

**We'll be back Monday with new chapters. In the meantime, please leave a review and let us know what you think. Thanks!  
**


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

* * *

Chapter 22

_**January 2010**_

EPOV

As new lovers, Bella and I spent hours of every day in her bed — talking, caressing, loving — reveling in each other's touch. Even my most vivid fantasies could not compare with making love to Bella in real life. My desire for her exceeded any emotion, any _craving _that I had ever felt before, and nothing in my previous experience had prepared me for it. She was the center of my universe, her allure stronger to me than the gravitational pull of the earth. At times I thought I would be perfectly content if I did nothing for the rest of eternity besides worship at the altar of her body.

Some days I was so overwhelmed with love and desire that I could barely stand to be away from her while she was at the university and I attended high school.

I was having just such a day when Bella called to say she was running late and to meet her at her apartment. I had a key now, and every time my finger ran over that small piece of brass, it felt like the passport to my whole world. When I pushed it into the lock, I could hear every tiny pin fall into its assigned groove. Such a small bit of human engineering, and yet it meant I could swing open the door to the happiest place I'd ever known.

Walking into her empty apartment that night, I was struck by a sudden inspiration. Something that would give us both a thrill, and satisfy the appetite which had been building in me for hours . . .

_Yes_, I decided.

We were about to engage in the sexiest game of cat and mouse ever played.

* * *

As I waited in the darkness, I heard her pull up in the parking lot and get out of her car. I counted her footsteps to the apartment. Heard her own keys jangling as she opened the door and stepped inside.

"Edward?" she called out. "Are you here?"

Her hand reached for the light switch, but before she could turn it on, I swiftly and silently approached her and put my hand over hers.

"Keep the lights off," I whispered into her neck, nuzzling her slightly and inhaling her scent. I took her hand and drew her further into the room. "Close the door." I instructed, before licking the base of her neck and abruptly vanishing from her sight. Confused but trusting, she reached back and closed the apartment door.

It was dark, but the streetlights from the parking lot filtered in through the mini-blinds, and I knew they would give her enough light to see where she was walking. At the same time, there wasn't enough light for her to see me as I darted away from her and receded into the shadows.

"Hey," she reached for me and grabbed nothing but air. "Come back here. What are you doing?"

Before she knew it I was next to her again. "Oh, I think you can guess," I murmured, running my tongue along the outer edge of her ear. I reached under her coat and slipped it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, along with her keys and her bag. I pulled her into my arms and kissed her on the mouth, lingering on the softness of her lips.

She gave a small moan and I dashed away again. She spun around, trying to find me, eyes searching in the dimness. "Edward, don't tease me," she said to a corner of the room.

"But you're so beautiful when you're confused," I whispered from the opposite corner.

She spun again to where my voice had come from, but before she got her bearings, I came up behind her and put my arms around her, running my hands up her body so that I could feel her perfect breasts through the thin fabric of her shirt. I made short work of the buttons and tossed her blouse to the floor. Her bra was next.

Moving in front of her, I kneeled and took one nipple into my mouth while gently squeezing her other breast. "I'm so glad you're home," I purred between ministrations. I loved the way she tasted, the way she felt.

She jammed her hands into my hair and relaxed against me, enjoying the pleasure I was giving her. But before either of us got too comfortable, I flew away again.

I heard her sharp intake of breath as the cold air hit her naked torso where my mouth and hands had just been. "Edward," she pleaded, "come back."

"Come and find me," I said from the dark hallway leading to the bedroom. Watching her walk toward me gave me a thrill akin to what I felt during a hunt — except Bella was the most precious prey imaginable. I could barely wait to have her; I pulsed with anticipation as she took another step in my direction.

Suddenly I was touching her again. Before I could stop myself I had picked her up and wrapped her legs around my waist. She bent her head down to kiss me, a long, languid kiss that was so sweet I didn't want her to stop. I could feel her tiny hands undoing the buttons of my shirt, yanking it up and off of me, so we could have skin-to-skin contact. It was my turn to moan.

Still holding her, I took a few steps backward, bringing us closer to the bedroom. Then I set her down and flitted away from her embrace once again.

"Where did you go?" she whispered.

"I'm right here, love," I said a few seconds later, appearing behind her. I kissed the back of her neck and ran my hands down her arms. "Where else would I be?"

She laughed and nestled her back against my chest. My hands reached around her waist to the button of her pants, and with the flick of my thumb, it was undone. I slid her pants and panties to the floor, and slipped her feet out of her shoes and socks.

Crouched behind her, I kissed the back of her now-naked knee and said, "There was something I was hoping to see tonight." My hands were traveling up and down the back of her legs, up to her supple backside.

"Oh really?" she asked, and turned around. And in a wickedly sweet voice, she continued, "Tell me, Edward, what could an innocent vampire such as yourself possibly be looking for?" She stepped closer to my face. "Oh, how I wonder what it could be?" From the crouched position I was in, there was only one thing I could see. And it was beautiful.

I could smell her arousal as I leaned in and inhaled her scent. Her whole body trembled when I reached out and touched her with my tongue.

"Ohhh," she cried softly. "I think you might have found it."

"Mmmmm," I hummed into her. "Yes, love, I think you might be right."

She swayed unsteadily on her feet as I continued to lick and kiss her. I relished her taste. As much as her sweet blood called me, the taste of her body called me more. I drank her in, thinking I would never get enough, and before long I was growling with the intensity of it.

I brought one of her legs over my shoulder and reached my arms behind her back to support her, then carried her the remaining steps to the bed, all the while continuing to kiss and lick the part of her anatomy that I found most addictive.

"Edward," she breathed as she tossed her head from side to side. I loved seeing her like this, giving herself over to pure pleasure.

But after a few more minutes, I once again withdrew from her touch and her sight.

She cried out for me.

I had leapt up and was braced in a corner of the bedroom ceiling. From above, I stared down with wonder at her beauty. She was naked, aroused, spread out on the bed and crying for me. The sight of her — just knowing she was mine for the taking — ignited the most powerful desire I had ever felt.

"Tell me what you want, Bella."

She looked up in shock at the direction of my voice, her eyes unseeing in the darkness.

"I want you, Edward," she moaned. "I want to feel you. Now. Please."

That was all I need to hear. With all of my vampire speed I leapt down, shed my remaining clothes, and was _inside_ her before she could ask again. We both gasped at the sensation.

"Enough of this game," she scolded. "Don't go away again." And as she started to move her hips in rhythm with mine, I knew there was no possible way I could leave her embrace.

"I'm not going anywhere," I said as I increased our tempo. I reached down and grabbed her backside as she pulled her legs around me.

We kept going, faster and deeper. I never knew such pleasure could exist.

"Ed— Edw— Edward!" Bella screamed, and I felt her shudder around me as we both came undone. And in that moment, I was certain that no one could possibly have been as fulfilled and in love as I was.

* * *

Sometimes I worried that I exhausted Bella in our lovemaking. By my very nature, I brought an inhuman intensity to our bed, and my body never grew tired of moving in synch with hers. She constantly amazed me by meeting my pace and matching me desire-for-desire. Still, I felt a surge of guilt when, later that night, Bella's stomach rumbled in hunger.

"I'm sorry, love," I immediately said. "I shouldn't have kept you from dinner." I glanced at the clock and saw it was very late.

She reached up and kissed my lips softly. "Don't worry about it, I was much happier doing what we were doing," she grinned. "I'll just grab a quick bite in the kitchen."

Not bothering to get dressed, we left the bed and made our way through the dark apartment to her small kitchen. She turned on the overhead light while I had a seat at the table.

Although we had just spent hours exploring the pleasures of each other's bodies, the sight of Bella naked in the kitchen made me yearn for her again. I loved watching her move, even when she was doing the simplest things. But I forced myself to stay in my seat, knowing that my insatiable appetite had caused her to skip dinner.

As I gazed at her, Bella opened the refrigerator door, leaned in and said, "Ah ha! Perfect!" When she emerged, she was cradling a red delicious apple in her hands. She turned around to show it to me.

"You are the portrait of a temptress right now, the way you're standing there naked with that apple in your hands," I couldn't help telling her with a chuckle.

"Is this our garden of Eden, then?" she asked as she got out a cutting board and knife and began slicing the apple. She looked up at me and smiled.

I don't know what made me do it. She was just so beautiful, so irresistible to me. And after what we had just spent hours doing, a few minutes away from her touch was too long. I couldn't help myself.

Using my vampire speed, I leapt up and embraced her, pressing my nakedness into her back.

"It sure feels like paradise to me," I said as I leaned around and kissed her throat.

Without meaning to, I had startled her. I felt her jump under my touch.

"Oh!" she cried. "Ouch!"

The smell assaulted my nostrils before I saw the blood. Bella had jerked the knife and accidentally cut her wrist. We both looked down in horror as a rivulet of red ran out of her vein.

Things happened very quickly then.

I was seized with an urge so strong I was powerless against it. The flowers, the adrenaline, the arousal, the irresistible fragrance of my singer — they all swirled together, and I wanted them all at once. Every ounce of control I once had was gone, obliterated under a wrecking ball of overwhelming thirst. My long-practiced resistance was meaningless in the face of this crushing compulsion. Venom pooled in my mouth as my grip on Bella tightened. My arms became a cage she could not escape.

The sight and smell of her blood were all that mattered to me. _I had to have it._ _I would have it. I must taste it. Now._

I spun Bella around to face me and leaned in, pressing her against the counter. I used one arm to block her exit and hold her fast. With my free hand, I reached down and pulled her bleeding wrist to my mouth.

Not letting a drop of blood hit the floor, I licked the streak of red that flowed from her cut. _Heaven. _It tasted a thousand times better than it smelled.

This was no longer a playful cat-and-mouse game of seduction — I was in full predator mode. Pressing further against her, I snarled in a low voice, "Don't move."

And then, greedily, I brought my mouth once more to her wrist, and drank.

As the sweet, hot nectar of her blood coated my throat, I lost all ability to form rational thoughts. Incapacitated by the nirvana of her blood, I couldn't concentrate on anything besides it singing to me, filling my senses. Nothing else existed but myself, this sustenance, and my need to have it, have more of it, _have it all_.

I had such difficulty focusing on what was directly in front of me that it took a few minutes before Bella came into view. I stared at her tear-streaked face for some moments before I could hear her. And then in a rush of sound, I heard her shrieks.

"Edward, please!" she sobbed, terrified. "Stop, Edward, please stop!! You're hurting me!"

She was hysterically crying and screaming in panic and pain. And I was the reason.

The sight of Bella's anguished face and the abject terror in her voice snapped me out of my frenzy.

I dropped her arm and backed away from her, breathing heavily. When my back hit the kitchen wall I slid down into a sitting position, still panting in my excitement.

Bella slipped down to the floor as well, weakened from the blood loss. She scrambled backwards, no doubt trying to get away from me. Her eyes were glazed, her pupils dilated in fright and shock.

_What had I done? Oh my Bella, I'm a monster. _I could feel myself twisting into knots as the realization of what I had done started to take hold. I reached my hands out toward her but didn't dare touch her. "Bella . . ." I choked on a tearless sob.

"Just get away from me Edward," she said weakly, as she reached up and grabbed a dishtowel from the counter and wrapped it around her wrist.

"Just go now. I'm okay. Just get out of here," her voice dropped and all color drained from her face.

And then she fainted on the kitchen floor.

* * *

It's funny how we are able to still function even in the worst moments of our lives.

Somehow, I managed to call Carlisle, asking him to meet us at the hospital and telling him only that Bella had cut herself and lost a lot of blood, and to please hurry.

Then I stopped drawing breaths. Mechanically, I did what needed to be done. I re-secured the dishtowel around Bella's wrist. I quickly put some clothes on her, and got dressed myself. I carried her out to the Volvo and drove us to the hospital in silence.

In a perverse way, I was grateful that she was still unconscious, because I didn't think I could face her yet. Not after what I had done.

When I pulled into the emergency entrance at the hospital, Carlisle was already waiting for us. He opened the passenger door and gave me a quick glance. _May I? _he said silently. I moved my head almost imperceptibly, and without further hesitation he picked up Bella's limp form and put her on a waiting gurney. She was whisked away behind the curtains of the emergency ward.

I followed behind them slowly, but stopped in the waiting room, where I slumped into a seat. I could hear Carlisle's orders for her care from there.

About half an hour later, he came out to talk to me.

"I put five stitches in her wrist," he told me matter-of-factly. "Her pressure is low because she's lost so much blood, but that will rectify itself once we get a few pints into her."

I couldn't meet his eyes. I just nodded.

_Are __you__ all right?_ He asked me silently.

I nodded again, still hanging my head.

He hesitated, and I could read the concern in his thoughts.

Wordlessly, he placed his hand on my shoulder and gave a slight squeeze. And then he reached in his pocket, took out a box and laid it on the table in front of me.

It was a three-week supply of contact lenses. Brown.

He didn't have to say a word. He knew what brought us here tonight, knew it from the second we arrived. And even though I had not stopped to look in a mirror since it happened, I knew what I would see if I did.

My eyes were the color of blood. Bella's blood.

I had never hated myself more.

**A/N: **

**I know you probably didn't see this coming. Please hang in there with us. **

**If you are enjoying this story, we would really, really appreciate your support in the Indie Twific Awards. Voting is open through ****tonight**** (Monday, July 13) at Midnight Eastern. Perchance to Dream is nominated in the categories of (1) Best Alternate Universe Work in Progress, and (2) Best Collaboration. To vote, please visit  
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**Special thanks to Tinderbox210 who made us a beautiful new story banner, to Jedigirlsc who arranged it, and to Mizra who made another beautiful banner. Links to the banners are in my profile.**

**Songs for Chapter 22**

60. The Prowl, by Dan Auerbach. This funky tune is for Edward's cat-and-mouse seduction, especially for the lyrics, "oh now my love for you is strange, oh girl you got me on the prowl."

61. Bleeding Love, by Boyce Avenue. This acoustic cover is for Edward's loss of control with Bella, in light of the lyric, "you cut me open, and I keep bleeding love."

62. Hemorrhage In My Hands, by Fuel. For the lyric, "love lies bleeding in my hands." Oh, Edward.

63. Skeleton Key, by Margot & The Nuclear So & Sos. For the lyric, "I did a horrible thing to that girl. I bred my misery and drowned it in her. And she got me high, and I hardly noticed there were tears in her eyes."

**Listen to the playlist by visiting my profile or going to  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Huge thanks as ever to my co-author FantasyMother. Please drop by our thread on the Twilighted forum in the Alternate Universe section. www[dot]twilighted[dot]net/forum**

**This week we will be updating every morning, Monday – Thursday. Thanks to all who are reading, favoriting, and reviewing. We love hearing from you, so please leave a review and let us know what you think. **


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

* * *

Chapter 23

_**January 2010**_

EPOV

"She's awake, Edward. And she's asking for you."

In the five seconds that it took Carlisle to say those words, my mind spun with a plethora of competing thoughts. Top-most was the single, undeniable fact that had resonated through me from the moment I drank Bella's blood: She was the sweetest thing I had ever tasted in my 109 years, bar none. Nothing else even came close, and no words could do justice to the feeling of her blood in my body. Even now as I sat in this grim waiting room, my senses felt impossibly sharper, and I was invigorated with an energy unlike anything I'd experienced before. I had not felt so _vital_, so _alive _since the days when my heart still beat within my chest.

I once told Bella that her blood called to me like a drug. At the time I thought I was only speaking metaphorically — I had no idea how powerfully under the influence I would feel if I actually drank it. Now I felt _drunk_ on it. My body buzzed with it.

Yet absolutely none of these sensations came as a pleasure. Instead, with every heightened sensibility, I was reminded what a loathsome monster I was. I did not deserve to feel so alive when the greatest high I'd ever known came at the price of Bella barely escaping death.

She must hate me. She _should_ hate me.

I could see things clearly now — what a fool I had been to think I could be with Bella, how we had been living on borrowed time. My monstrous nature had just been waiting in the wings to ruin the only real happiness I'd ever known, and it emerged with a vengeance tonight, and with devastating consequences.

I had ruined everything. Razed it all to rubble.

The fault for this disaster was mine alone. I was the overconfident ass who so casually thought I could control my blood-sucking nature. _Idiot! What were you thinking?_

I was the imbecile who believed I could play a tantalizing cat-and-mouse game with Bella's body and not put her at risk! _How could you have been so stupid_?

I should have known this would happen if I gave in too much to my desires. I _knew_ better than to mix my bloodlust with my lust for her body, and yet I did it anyway, heedless to the risk to her. My bloodlust for her had always been heightened, but when coupled with my craving for her body . . . _You idiot! _

I thought back to the time when I was hunting and thought I saw Bella. As I drank the stag's blood that night, I had been overwhelmed with desire for Bella. The same thing happened tonight, just in the opposite order — my desire for Bella's body had opened the floodgate to my thirst for her blood. I never should have started that stupid game of seducing her like she was my prey. And I never should have kept playing the game when I leapt behind her in the kitchen and caused her to cut herself.

I had been in hunting mode _all night_. Of course I was in no condition to resist her blood! _Moron! _It was a miracle I had not killed her, or pierced her skin with my teeth, or worst of all, infected her with my venom. Horrific images of Bella in agony flooded my mind.

Carlisle's thoughts interrupted my own. _She's still being transfused, Edward. There will be no shame if you can't handle seeing her right now._

The hospital's smell of blood and bleach, sweat and urine — not to mention my own wracking guilt — made everything distinctly unappetizing. Despite all of my arrogant overconfidence earlier, I knew I would not hurt Bella now. I had done more than enough damage. And Carlisle was close by to keep me in check if I was wrong.

I stood up with all the resolve of a man about to face a grueling punishment. "I can handle it," I told him tightly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Carlisle led me back to a curtained area. Immediately I detected Bella's distinct scent, but it was mixed with something foreign — the smell of some anonymous donor whose blood was sustaining her tonight. Because I had stolen her own.

Carlisle quietly pulled the curtain back and there she was, lying in a hospital bed, looking paler than usual, with a long needle stuck in a vein in her arm. A tube led up to a pint of blood that was hanging on a nearby stand, and it was slowly being infused into Bella. The sight and smell of the donor blood did not tempt me in the slightest. I only wanted Bella to have back what I took from her.

Carlisle looked at me briefly and said silently, _I'll give you some privacy, but I won't be far if you need me. _And then he discreetly withdrew.

Bella glanced up and saw me standing by the open curtain. She looked so tired. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face was streaked with dried tears. She gave me a weak smile.

The sight of her so frail and vulnerable hit me like a physical blow, and I nearly stumbled as I walked toward her. Avoiding the side of the bed where she was receiving blood, I kneeled on the other side and bowed my head, my forehead resting on the mattress near her waist. Although I had no tears, I cried.

"Bella, I am so very sorry. Sorrier than you know. I never, ever meant to hurt you," I choked. "I love you so much. Please believe me."

She brought her hand to my head and ran her fingers through my hair. "I do believe you," she said in a small voice. She pushed my hair behind my ear and then raked her fingers lightly through again.

As the simple act of her touch soothed me, I knew it was unfair. _She _was the one who deserved soothing gestures, not me.

"Your father said I don't have to be admitted," she said. "We can go as soon as this IV is finished and my blood pressure checks out okay." She yawned. "I just want to go home."

Lifting my head, I caught her hand in both of mine. "I know," I said, kissing her knuckles. And again I whispered, "I'm sorry, Bella."

"Stop," she said.

I dropped her hand. _Of course she didn't want me to touch her_.

"Edward," she sighed impatiently and looked at me sadly. And then she put her hand back in mine.

* * *

About an hour later, Carlisle gave Bella the all-clear to leave.

_Take care of her, Edward, and yourself as well, _Carlisle thought as we were leaving. _Come home later if you want to talk._

"Thank you, Carlisle," I said. "For everything." Having him here had eased my frantic mind — at least as much as it could be eased on this otherwise hellish night. Not only did it reassure me to have Bella in his care, I was also relieved to have his support for myself. He knew what I had done — I showed up in his E.R. in the middle of the night, wild and red-eyed, with Bella unconscious and down three pints of blood. It was obvious what had happened. Yet he did not lecture me or press for an account of the exact circumstances. He just took care of us, and I was so grateful for it. I didn't think any other member of our family would have been as non-judgmental.

By the time Bella and I left the hospital, it was a few minutes past 6:00 a.m., and the dawn was just breaking. It looked to be another overcast day with storm clouds on the horizon.

To make Bella more comfortable in the car, Carlisle had given me one of the pre-warmed blankets that they use on patients. I nestled Bella into the passenger seat and tucked the blanket around her.

"Thank you," she sighed softly. She could barely keep her eyes open.

I reclined the seat so that she could rest. "Just lie back, love. We'll be home before you know it."

"Mmm hmm," was all the response she could muster.

As I turned onto the main road leading back to Bella's apartment, I thought about the fact that she had not had anything to eat since lunch the previous day. My own selfishness had seen to that. But she needed sustenance, especially after the night she had, and I could at least give her that much.

I changed course and pulled into the parking lot of an all-night grocery store, intent on getting something nutritious for Bella. When the car came to a stop, Bella roused a bit. "Where are we?" she murmured.

"It's okay, love. Just stay here. I'll be right back." I reached over and stroked her hair. I wanted to kiss her, too, but held back.

"Okay," she mumbled, and with a yawn, she closed her eyes again.

Entering the grocery store, I was jarred by how foul and repulsive I found it. The smell in the air was a putrid combination of rotting fruit, chemical cleaning products, sugary snacks and decaying meat. I could hear the soft scurrying of rats in the back room. Each aisle was unnaturally bright and cheerful, the fluorescent light too great a contrast with this gloomy, overcast, early morning. Muzak piped through the nearly empty store. The whole setting was decidedly unpleasant, and for once, I was glad that I did not have to frequent a place like this to acquire my own food supply. I wanted to get in and out of there as quickly as possible.

Having been through medical school twice, I knew that Bella could use a meal rich in protein and iron after losing so much blood. So I grabbed a small basket and headed straight back to the meat counter, trying to keep my revulsion at bay.

"Excuse me," I inquired of the man behind the counter, "what is your best cut of steak?"

Without hesitation the butcher replied, "That would be the organic filet mignon. Twenty-six dollars a pound, but it's the best steak we stock."

My eye was drawn to a stack of glossy recipe cards displayed on top of the refrigerated meat case. One in particular said, "Delicious Steak Dinner in Under 20 Minutes!" It featured a photograph of a steak, a side of potatoes, and a salad. It looked exactly like the kind of meal Bella needed right now. Picking up one of the cards, I was pleased to see that it listed all the ingredients and directions for preparing the pictured meal.

Holding the card up to the butcher, I asked him, "Is this a filet mignon?"

"Yep, sure is."

"Okay, I'll take one."

He wrapped up a steak, put a price sticker on the package, and handed it to me. I thanked him and immediately moved on to collect the rest of the ingredients on the card — baby red potatoes with fresh dill and butter. Tomatoes, red onions, and leafy, green spinach for a salad that would give Bella the iron she needed.

I hurriedly paid for my purchases and came back out to Bella. As I expected, she was asleep. I didn't want to disturb her slumber, so I drove us in silence.

When we got to her apartment, I came around to the passenger side and picked her up, hooking my wrist through the grocery bag handles so I wouldn't have to make a second trip. Using my key, I let us into the apartment and set the groceries down. I held onto Bella.

"Bella, you need to eat something."

"Mmm, I _am_ really hungry," she responded sleepily. "But I'm too tired to cook right now, Edward. I'll eat later."

"No, love, let me take care of you. Why don't you go take a shower and put on your pajamas, and I'll bring you breakfast in bed."

She nodded and I gingerly set her down on her feet. As she headed off to the bathroom, I grabbed the grocery bags and the recipe card and set to work.

_Now what? _I thought to myself as I looked around Bella's kitchen. I had never cooked human food before, not even when I had been human.

_Oh, just get to it. Bella needs this. _I started opening cabinets and pulling out pots and pans.

It turned out cooking human food wasn't so hard. Following a recipe was a matter reading comprehension, when it came down to it. I thought of it like a chemistry experiment — as a perpetual student, I had certainly done plenty of those over the years.

It also didn't hurt that the meal I selected for Bella called for uncomplicated ingredients and straightforward preparation. Pan sear the steak. Check. Boil water and steam the potatoes. Check. Put steak in oven to broil and set timer. Check. Wash the spinach. Check. Slice the other vegetables for the salad . . .

I cringed when I saw that the cutting board and knife were still on the counter from last night. Worse, the knife still had Bella's dried blood on it. _Think about Bella now. Do this for her._ I tossed the browned remains of the apple into the garbage. Then I scrubbed the knife and cutting board with dish detergent and hot water, wishing I could as easily wash away my own guilt.

By the time I heard Bella turn off the shower, the meal was done. I assembled it on plates in a reasonable approximation of the photograph on the brochure. And, after some poking around in Bella's cabinets, I found a tray that would hold it all. I gathered salt, pepper, utensils, and napkins and placed them on the tray with Bella's steak and salad.

I brought everything into the bedroom just as Bella was about to climb into bed. After setting the tray on the bedside table, I came over to her. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt and panties, but nothing else.

"Hey," I said in a low voice as I took her hands in mine.

"Hey yourself," she said sleepily.

I lifted her injured wrist and inspected the bandage, wanting to make sure it hadn't come loose when she showered. With horror, I discovered that all around the bandage, her wrist was black and blue with bruises. Bruises that _I _had made with my grip.

I drew in a ragged breath. Then, slowly, I lifted the hem of her t-shirt so I could see the other spot where I had held her to prevent her escape last night. I choked on a sob as I saw a black and blue handprint on Bella's hip. _I was a monster._

"Edward," Bella said calmly, pulling down her shirt and pushing my hand away. "Let me get in bed now."

She crawled under the covers and stated simply, "Come and be with me."

I did as she asked, but stayed on top of the covers.

Bella looked over at the tray on the bedside table, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You made that? Wow, I didn't know you could cook! It looks really good."

"Let me help you," I said, propping pillows up to support Bella in a sitting position. Then I reached over and brought the tray to her lap. "Here, eat before it gets cold."

She cut a small bite of steak and put it in her mouth. Her eyes closed as she chewed. "Mmmm," she hummed, "this is delicious." Then she opened her eyes and smiled at me. "God, you really _are _good at everything." She scooped up some potatoes, then speared some spinach.

"That's hardly true, Bella. I'm far from being good at everything," I said, still filled with self-hatred. "I'm a complete failure at keeping you safe from me."

She continued eating for a few minutes. "You're not going to get over last night, are you?" She said quietly, not looking at me.

"No."

"Not even if I ask you to? For me?"

"Bella, I . . . " I didn't know what to tell her.

"Edward," she said, putting her knife and fork down and placing her hand on mine. She looked at me intently. "Listen to me." _Thuh-thump_, a single beat of her heart. "I forgive you." _Thuh-thump. _"I love you." _Thuh-thump. _

I didn't deserve it. Would never deserve it. Could never deserve it, not after what I had done. But before I could stop myself, I repeated the three words back to Bella. And again I longed to reach over and kiss her, but I simply couldn't.

"Just eat now, Bella. You need to regain your strength and get some rest."

Her eyes glistened with tears, but she didn't argue. We didn't say much as she ate the rest of her meal. When she was finished, I took the tray into the kitchen then came back to tuck her in.

When I didn't move to get in the bed with her, she asked, "Won't you stay with me? Please?"

I really wanted to leave so I could clear my head, but I didn't like refusing Bella anything. "You need to sleep, love."

"Just hold me until I fall asleep, Edward, please. I want to be in your arms."

And I couldn't bring myself to deny her. "Okay," I agreed, once more getting into bed with her.

As I wrapped myself around her small frame and nuzzled my nose into her hair, I wondered if I would ever be able to set things right with us again.

* * *

It didn't take long before Bella was asleep. Gently, I pulled away from her and eased out of the bed. Bringing the covers back up over her shoulders, I was struck again by her beauty, this angel who had rescued me from decades of loneliness and made my life so complete. I would never forgive myself for attacking her so brutally.

But in the moment, she was safe. She was resting. This was what she needed.

And I needed to leave. I had to think. I needed rational objectivity, and I couldn't think as clearly when I was so close to Bella.

I silently slipped out of the apartment, locking the deadbolt behind me. _Right_, I thought to myself ironically. _Just lock the deadbolt, that'll keep her safe. You're the most dangerous thing in her world, and you have the key to the deadbolt, asshole. Who else could hurt her as much as you did last night?_

I locked the door anyway.

It was raining hard when I got outside to my car, but it was the perfect accompaniment to my black mood. Pulling out of the apartment complex, I drove aimlessly, without a destination. As the miles passed, I was aware of simply the speed, the motion. I was numb, wrapped in an insulation of low noise — the thrumming vibration of tires against asphalt, the sound of the car slicing through the rushing water on the road, the constant rhythm of the windshield wipers.

Without even consciously selecting it as a destination, I arrived at the secluded place I had frequented so many times over the years that I automatically ended up there now. It was the place I used to come to fantasize about my beautiful Bella before she was mine. It was only fitting that I should be here now, when I needed to decide whether I could keep her in my life.

_Yes, you undeserving prick, that's exactly what you need to decide_.

The very idea of being deprived of Bella filled me with not only desolation, but outright rage. I got out of the car right as a loud clap of thunder shook the sky. Perfect. Just the cover I needed.

Walking over to the woods I snapped a large tree in half and flung it across the clearing. I threw my head back and yelled aloud, releasing some of my fury at the world, at fate, at myself.

Still outrageously tense and angry, I paced around until I spotted a large boulder. "Goddammit!" I shouted, pounding my fist and causing a chunk of rock to break off. Again and again I struck until the boulder was reduced to gravel.

Destruction seemed to be my strong suit of late. And yet I realized that it was pointless to tear more things up, because nothing else I destroyed could undo what I had done to Bella.

I stopped and looked up at the sky. The rain beat down on my face and a flash of lightning streaked across the horizon. I felt the hairs on my arm stand on end from the electricity in the air.

And as I stood there, I knew what I had to do. My situation was impossible. Now that I had finally found Bella, I couldn't let her go. I couldn't live without her. That was the simple truth.

And yet just as true was the fact that she couldn't live _with_ me. Or rather, she couldn't live with my primal desires. I was deadly to her.

I was no longer prepared to take risks with her life. I had no choice. The only way to keep Bella safe was to suppress my desire for her.

And that was what I vowed to do.

**A/N: **

**Please keep hanging in there with us this week. **

**Songs for Chapter 23**

64. Breakfast in Bed, by Dntel (ft. Conor Oberst). This off-kilter tune is for Edward still feeling drunk on Bella's blood and trying to take care of her.

65. This Is The Thing, by Fink. For Edward's crushing self-hatred, and for the lyric, "And the things that keep us apart, keep me alive. There are things that keep me alive, keep me alone."

66. Until We Bleed, by Kleerup. This one's for Bella, who already loves him until she bleeds, and for the lyric "you're drunk, you need it, real love, I'll give it . . ."

67. Sunday Afternoon, by Rachael Yamagata. Another song for Bella, for the lyric, "You have blood on your hands, and I'm feeling faint, and honey, you can't decide. I'm a drug you don't want to give up."

68. Are You Ready to Be Heartbroken, by Lloyd Cole and the Commotion. For Edward, who is getting ready to break hearts, and because the acoustic guitar in this song is the prettiest thing you'll hear all day, I promise.

**Listen to all the songs by visiting my profile or going to  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Huge thanks as ever to FantasyMother. Please drop by our thread on the Twilighted forum in the Alternate Universe section. www[dot]twilighted[dot]net/forum**

**We have two more chapters this week, to be posted on Wednesday and Thursday. Thanks again for reading, and special thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts. They are much appreciated. **


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

* * *

Chapter 24

_**February 2010**_

BPOV

I was in hell. If hell could be described as separation from the one you love, that's where I was. And the worst part was, I could see my heaven every day; I could even reach out and touch him, but he never let me in. At the beginning of each day, I hoped things would change, but at the end of each night, I realized things had stayed the same.

I missed Edward so much, it was crushing me. Even when he was there, he wasn't. And I was so afraid that if I didn't find a way to cope with this all-consuming despair, I'd go stark raving mad.

Like I said . . . Hell.

It had been a month since "the incident," which was my own name for the day I was thrown out of paradise. If Edward had a name for it, I didn't know what it was, because he wouldn't talk to me about it. Ever since it happened, Edward was there for me, always the attentive boyfriend. Every day, he told me that he loved me, and I said the same in return. And he went out of his way to take care of me, making sure I had everything I needed. If anything, he was overly attentive about my physical comfort and well-being. But he wasn't the same. Nothing was the same. He treated me like I was made of glass that would shatter the second he let his guard down.

It started on the day after the incident. After we came home from the emergency room, he cooked for me and stayed with me until I fell asleep, but when I woke up, I was alone. All that Saturday I tried calling him, but he wouldn't pick up his cell phone. It wasn't until late that night that I heard him opening the door to my apartment. I was rejoicing inside, he'd finally come back to me, all would be as it was before. But no, Edward came to wish me a good night, and to tell me he couldn't stay because he'd be hunting that night.

The next day, he made another excuse for not spending the night, and I knew something was seriously wrong. He had not hunted the night before, the deep purple bruises under his eyes told me that much. There was no other way of looking at it — Edward was avoiding me.

I wanted us to talk this out before things got worse. So, the following evening I sat him at my kitchen table and grabbed his hand. I had to find a way to reach him, some way to get past the wall he had erected between us.

"Edward, listen to me. You need to hear this. Please." I added my other hand, sandwiching his cool strong hand between my own. I took a deep breath and tried not to cry, knowing it would make matters worse if he saw my tears.

"I know what happened has shaken us." I told him. "But you can't carry this on your shoulders alone. We _both _made mistakes, okay? We _both_ forgot to be careful." I pleaded with my eyes for him to accept what I said.

He huffed out a skeptical breath. "Bella, come on. You know that's not true."

"It _is _true, Edward. Why won't you see it? I am so accident prone — I should never have handled a sharp knife when we were both distracted like that. Even under ordinary circumstances I cut myself all the time." I wasn't trying to be self-deprecating or take more than my share of the blame; it was the truth. I was clumsy, always had been.

Turning my hand over, I pointed out a little white line. "See, look at this, Edward. This was from six months ago — I was cutting carrots and accidentally nicked myself with the knife." I rotated my hand again and pointed out another scar. "This one was more recent . . . I was slicing a tomato, I think." I turned my hand again. "And here's another one."

I glanced up to see if he was paying attention. He was staring at my hands. "The point is, Edward, I've had tons of little mishaps in the kitchen. You can't act as if it's your fault each time."

"Mishap?" he said with an edge of anger. "You call it a mishap?" His voice started to rise. "Bella, I drank your blood! I nearly killed you! It wasn't a mere _mishap!_"

I knew he wasn't mad at me; he was furious at himself. But knowing that didn't make it any easier. His self-loathing was a barricade between us now, and I hated it.

"I know that, Edward," I said evenly. And the truth was, he had really, really scared me when it happened. Those minutes when he had me trapped and helpless so that he could drink the blood from my vein were nothing short of terrifying. But the point was, he had stopped. And despite everything, I still trusted him. And I told him so.

"Don't you understand that it was only your strength that kept me alive? You _didn't_ kill me. You _saved_ me. You were stronger than anyone else could have been." I squeezed his hand. "You stopped, Edward. I'm your singer and still you stopped. You could never let yourself seriously hurt me."

That provoked a reaction, but not the one I wanted. He raised his head and stared at me with a look of complete disbelief and utter self-contempt. My heart twisted just to see that expression on his beautiful face; I felt as if I was dying inside watching him tear himself apart.

"Edward, please." I did everything I could to stop the trembling in my voice. "I love you. I want you. Please stop beating yourself up about this."

My voice broke on my next words, "Please come back to me."

"Bella . . ." he sighed. I could see it in his face, I could see the torture. But I could also see I was losing this fight. "Bella, I love you, more than anything, more than I think you know." A tear slipped down my cheek, and when he saw it, another wave of anguish rippled across his face.

"Love, I am what I am," he whispered. "We can never again forget I'm not human. _I_ can never forget that I pose a constant danger to you."

I couldn't stop myself. Leaning down to put my forehead on our joined hands, I shook with quiet sobs. He took his free hand and stroked the back of my head.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. And I knew that he was.

But it changed nothing.

* * *

And so we carried on day-to-day. I felt completely helpless. My main strategies were to hide my pain from him so as not add to the burden he already carried, and to otherwise try and be patient. I thought this would blow over, maybe in a few days, maybe a couple of weeks, and then we would go back to normal. I told myself I just needed to give him space, give him time to heal, be there for him, and be supportive as he worked through his guilt.

A week later I tried again to make him see that we could be happy if he would only come back to me. I would have done anything to break him out of this endless spiral of remorse that was ripping us apart. And so, when we were graced with surprisingly mild weather, a hint of a warm breeze in the air even though the sky was overcast, I thought it would be an absolutely perfect day for us to take a drive out into the countryside, just us and the fragrant smells of coming spring.

I was almost bouncing with anticipation, hoping he'd be as excited as I was. When he stepped through my apartment door I ran up to him and, without thinking, started to throw my arms around his neck. At the last minute I remembered and stopped, arms raised but not touching him.

Edward realized what I had almost done, and pain flashed across his face before he corrected himself. He gave me a small smile that didn't reach his eyes, then leaned down to stiffly kiss my cheek.

His perfunctory show of affection made me sadder than if he had done nothing at all. I felt my eyes start to sting with tears, and it took everything I had to hold them in and try to smile back.

"Hey," I said with a forced smile, trying to sound cheerful, as if his stiff little kiss hadn't stung. "I was thinking that it's such a pretty day, we should go for a drive!"

My poor attempt to divert us rang hollow in my ears, and I'm certain in his as well — but I pushed forward, ready to try anything. I thought maybe a day away from my apartment, getting outdoors, doing something different, would start to crack the walls and set us on a road back to what we used to be.

Instead, I watched Edward's smile falter. "I don't know, Bella . . . being alone with you in the close confines of a car . . . Maybe that's not such a good idea."

Frustrated, I pushed back. "Then we can keep the windows down, Edward. Or we could rent a convertible." I tried to sound optimistic instead of exasperated, but I wasn't sure it was working. "Please?"

I could see my plea tore at him before his face returned to an expressionless mask. "I don't think I should take you to any isolated locations," he said with an air of finality. And that was that. Subject closed.

I felt the heat rising in my face — it had been such an innocent request, but I was roundly rejected yet again. I wanted to argue with him, but I knew I wouldn't be able to control my tears. _Be strong Bella, crying won't help this_.

Without even another glance at me, he took off his jacket and turned to hang it up in the hall closet. I swallowed my tears and walked over to the television, looking through my DVDs. With a sigh, I knew we'd spend another day doing the only thing that Edward deemed safe — watching a movie while sitting on opposite ends of the sofa.

And so here we were, four weeks since the incident. Four weeks of seeing all we had slowly disappear. Four weeks of love but no affection. Four weeks of occasional chaste kisses on my forehead or cheek and nothing more. Bit by bit the laughter stopped, or what laughter there was felt forced, as we both tried to pretend nothing was wrong, ignoring the elephant in the room.

For four weeks I had patiently waited, tried to be strong, tried to support him, hoping he'd finally break out of this depression, hoping he'd finally lower the walls, hoping he'd finally come back to me.

For four weeks I hid my anguish even as my pain grew more and more each day.

For four weeks, I cried myself to sleep every night in a cold and lonely bed.

I became a shell of myself. I tried to keep the pain buried as I went to school, went to the lab, watched DVDs with Edward and then retired to be alone once again. But my world had gone from technicolor to black and white. My heart twisted every time I saw the torment in his features. I was powerless to stop the destruction of the most wonderful thing I had ever known.

* * *

_I woke to a noise in my room, something I hadn't heard in months. With one hint of the scent of sun and honey, I knew who was there. Turning slowly and then sitting up, I stared at him. My dream lover had come, after all this time. He stood at the side of my bed, not moving a muscle — and although his face was invisible I could feel his stare — and sense the tension coming off him in waves. Part of me wanted to reach out to him, to feel love again, to feel a connection again even if it was only a dream, but a part of me recoiled. I now knew what real love was, with a real lover, and not only would it be a poor substitute, but it would be wrong. It would be a betrayal of all Edward and I were. I sighed to myself — or what we had __been__._

_I looked up as I heard my own sigh echoed from him, as I felt his tension turn to torment. Instinctively I reached my hand out to him, to help him, to comfort him, but as soon as I raised my hand and moved it towards him, he started to fade away. Within seconds, he was gone._

_And now I truly was alone. I slumped back down, rolled over, and in my dream cried myself back to sleep._

* * *

It was a particularly bad night. Edward had come by as usual, and I had made the mistake of picking a romantic comedy for us to watch. Ten minutes into the movie I realized what a poor choice it was, as neither of us even attempted to laugh at it. During the romantic parts, we couldn't even look at each other. As soon as the movie was over Edward shot to his feet.

"Well, I'll let you get to sleep. Good night, love. I'll talk to you tomorrow," he said and leaned down to kiss my cheek. His voice sounded flat, and his once sparkling eyes were dull in the light of my living room lamp. He couldn't even look at me, but I noticed he was trembling. I could feel his pain, and all I could do was try once more to keep him from feeling mine.

"Okay," I reached up and took his hand, using it to pull myself up from the couch. I walked with him to the front door and hoped he didn't see the tears welling in my eyes. As he walked out, I said, "Good night. I love you," then closed the door and locked it. I knew he liked hearing the deadbolt slide into place each night when he left.

Sagging against the closed door, I let the tears flow freely down my face. I knew he was still on the other side of the door, and I yearned for him to come back inside and take me in his arms. But instead, after a minute or two, I heard his car start and he drove away.

Defeated, I went to my room and fell onto my bed, burying my face in my pillow. I just let it all go, screaming into my pillow in pain and anguish. I knew I was reaching the end of my tether, the limit of my ability to cope. I cried until I couldn't breathe. I cried until there were no tears left. I cried until I thought I'd die from the pain ripping my heart apart.

_I was sitting on cold and wet grass as I looked around in confusion. Fog was rising around me, but in the distance I could see a gap in the translucent mist. Lowering myself to my belly, I crawled my way towards the gap, uncertain of what it was. Slowly I crawled, tentative and cautious until my hand went forward and hovered over empty space — and that's when I knew where I was._

_Cascadilla __Gorge, near Cornell__. __It was the place where years ago I had contemplated ending it all — the place where something came to stop me. I thought about that night, that night of abject sorrow, of bitterness, and I also thought of the promise of hope I had been given. Hope for a lover, even if it was only a dream lover. Hope that if I talked to the man in my dream he'd love me in return._

_I trembled on the wet ground — and the more I thought of that night the angrier I got. I listened, I did its bidding, and what did I get in return? Years of making love to a phantom, years of wishing he could be real, years of hoping he'd find me in real life._

_And then what more did I get? I got the love of my life, the only one I will ever love. I got two months of happiness and then I was cast back into despair worse than any I'd ever felt before. Two months of joy only to have it snatched away from me, the universe laughing at the joke, the joke that was on me because I was such a fool— as if anyone really COULD love me._

_Uncontrollable sobs rattled my body as I thought of how dearly I loved Edward, even if he didn't want me anymore. And that admission made the pain cut even deeper. Why? Why? I pounded the ground in anger, tears running down my face, my grief overwhelming me to the point I could barely breathe, barely think of anything but the pain ripping my soul apart as I wished two strong cool arms could wrap themselves around me and hold me __—__ but all I had was the cold mist and the ache that ripped at me as I lay at the edge of the gorge, wondering if it would all be easier if I just crawled forward and let myself fall into oblivion. Maybe it wouldn't hurt there._

EPOV

I was alone in my room, thinking of Bella. This was my new routine. Each night I would kiss Bella's cheek, tell her I love her, and leave her to sleep. Then I would come back here and contemplate what I had done to her, like a penance. I knew I had placed us both in an immutable bind of being together yet so far apart, and it was crushing us both. But I didn't know what else to do. If I were to relax around her and let my control slip again, I couldn't be assured of her safety. And if I were to go away from her completely, I couldn't be assured of my sanity. And so, here we were, growing farther apart each day while I spent every night trying to think of some other way for us to be.

One night, lost in despair, I succumbed to my utter longing for her and decided to indulge myself in fantasy again — just one more time to get lost in her, feel her love, even if it was only in my imagination. Something, anything to ease the torment of trying to stay away from her, from the love of my life, day after day. And as I saw her in my mind, she turned to me and I was shocked to see her face was filled with sorrow, mirroring my own pain. I couldn't do it, I couldn't bring myself to reach out through my mind and touch the product of my imagination. It wouldn't be real, it wouldn't be Bella. It wouldn't be what I wanted and, more than anything else, it felt like a betrayal. I sighed and opened my eyes, and once again tried to figure out how to release us from the trap that was tearing us apart.

But tonight, something about this night was different. It wasn't simply the awkwardness of the movie we had watched, or the fact that I had heard Bella fall against her apartment door after she closed it behind me. There was more. Somehow tonight the air felt different — thick, ominous, like something momentous was about to happen.

And so I wasn't particularly surprised when I felt the unmistakable sensation that I was no longer alone in my room.

I turned slowly, my body instinctively tensing in defense as the atmosphere continued to change around me. My eyes were drawn to a dark corner, because something was there. It was different than the spritely, pure presence which sometimes joined me when I hunted. This felt bigger, more ominous, more powerful.

It was like a shadow — some kind of void in the corner of my room — radiating heat and energy. It was barely defined, an amorphous shape. It pulsated, expanding and contracting like a beating heart.

And then I heard it. An unearthly voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once and felt like it was shaking the very foundations of the house. It wasn't angry or insistent, nor pleading nor persuasive. There was only one way to describe it — it sounded _omnipotent_. And it spoke only three words to me.

"_She needs you_," the voice intoned.

The words hit me like a wall of sound, vibrating in my chest, overlaying the pounding from the rhythm of its pulsation. I was trying to adjust to the sensory overload when I heard what sounded like the rush of wind against my ears, even though the air in my room was still.

"I hurt her," I pleaded. "She is safer this way."

"_Feel this_," the voice said to me, and I felt its wall of sound rush over me again. As the words reverberated throughout my room I felt something building up, like the rising tide of a wave that was about to crest and flood over me. The electricity in the air grew as I watched the pulsating void expand to twice its size, the heat radiating from it increasing. Confused, I felt the first tingling of fear as I tried to brace myself against the onslaught.

And then the wave broke, and I felt a series of earth-shattering screams pierce my mind. Pain, so much pain and sorrow was carried in those cries; my head was pounding from it as I searched, trying to find the source. The screaming continued, sometimes turning into muffled sobs but rising again to cries of anguish that were splitting my head in two. Suddenly the pain hit my chest as I felt what was left of my heart tear into pieces. It felt as if a hole punched through me as I fell to the floor, writhing in agony and despair. The pain permeated my body, more pain than I'd ever felt before, worse than the pain of transition as it wracked my mind and tore at me.

And then silence.

I was trying to scramble to my feet when it hit again. Wave after wave of utter despair flooded my body, my mind, my very soul. Shudders passed through me, so deep they rattled my bones. I fell to the floor again, convulsing in pain, begging for it to stop.

And as I lay on the floor, I finally realized that I recognized the screams and cries. With shock and horror, I knew they were coming from _Bella_. _My Bella._

The pain, the torment, the screaming rose in intensity and volume — my cries joined her screams as we were both locked in a cycle of pain. And then the pulsating void in my room repeated itself, saying once again those three words.

"_She needs you_."

And then as suddenly as it started it stopped — the pain, the screaming — all gone. Nothing but silence. I struggled to my feet, knowing beyond all doubt that I had just experienced what Bella was feeling. _How could she survive this? What was torturing her this way? How could I stop it? _

I had to get to her, I had to get to her _now —_ if whatever was hurting her was real, it felt like she was dying. I had to stop it. I _would _stop it.

I lunged out the open window as the panic started to rise in my chest. I flew through the forest, cutting a straight path to her, hoping I'd make it in time, knowing that running was the fastest way to get to her.

Before I even reached her apartment I could hear her cries and desperate sobbing. I flew to her door and let myself in, rushing to her bedroom. And what I saw made me freeze in place.

She was curled up on her bed, tearing at her hair, her body trembling, tears running down her face while the force of her despair hit me like a sledgehammer, almost knocking me to the floor. It was then I knew — and as the realization hit I fell to my knees.

Because I finally understood the source of her pain was _me._ My dead heart tore a little more as I saw what I fool I had been, I had thrown away the gift of her love, and it was killing her. _I_ was killing her.

Crawling into her bed, I took her in my arms, trying to still her shaking, trying to find a way to calm her, to wake her, to comfort her.

"Bella, love, shhh. Bella, it's me. Please wake up, please, Bella, oh, I'm so sorry, love, I didn't know," I cried as I held her to me, rocking her as her desperate sobs turned to whimpers and her body trembled uncontrollably. All I could do was hold her, love her, and beg her to come back to me. I cried out in my own anguish seeing her this way, and I shook with my own sobs as I held my love and begged her to return to me, return to my arms.

And as I held her and soothed her, I promised that I would never, _ever,_ deny _any_ aspect of our love again.

Rocking her against me, I felt it again — the electricity, the heat. I looked up, and it was there. The shapeless void had followed me to Bella's bedroom. And as I watched it, as I told Bella that I would never again deny our love, the void started to change.

As I continued to soothe her, it grew smaller, pulsated less violently, pulled into itself and winked out, as if its job was done.

_For now._

**A/N: **

**One more chapter this week — tomorrow. Thanks again for reading and reviewing. **

**Songs for Chapter 24 **(Longest chapter songlist ever.)

69. Quiet Times, by Dido. For Bella who misses Edward even though he's right there, and for the lyric, "Now I miss you, and I want you. You're not coming back, and I need you. But I can't have you even when you're here."

70. Sad Eyes, by Bat for Lashes. For Bella who can see the sadness in Edward's eyes, and for the lyric, "when you smile, those sad eyes look sadder and sadder still."

71. Do What You Gotta Do, by Meg Baird. For Bella, who is trying to be supportive of Edward while he sorts himself out.

72. Samson, by Regina Spektor. For Bella, who is the Delilah to Edward's Samson in this chapter. "You are my sweetest downfall. I loved you first."

73. Storm, by Jose Gonzalez. For Edward, who is trying to get himself together for Bella, and for the lyric, "as soon as the storm is over, I promise to send out for you."

74. In Spite of Me, by Morphine. For Edward's brief visit to Bella in her dream, and for the lyrics, "Late last night, I saw you in my living room. You seemed so close but yet so far. For a long time I thought that you'd be coming back to me. Those kind of thoughts can be so cruel."

75. My Immortal, by Evanescence. For Bella's breakdown, and for the lyric, "And if you have to leave, I wish that you would just leave, because your presence still lingers here, and it won't leave me alone."

76. My Skin, by Natalie Merchant. Also for Bella's breakdown, and for the lyric, "I need the darkness, the sweetness, the sadness, the weakness. I need a lullaby, a kiss goodnight, angel sweet love of my life, oh I need this."

77. Come Back, by Pearl Jam. For Edward, when he finally comes back to Bella, and wants her to come back to him.

**Listen to the playlist by visiting my profile or going to  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Huge thanks as ever to my co-author FantasyMother. Please drop by our thread on the Twilighted forum in the Alternate Universe section. www[dot]twilighted[dot]net/forum**


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

* * *

Chapter 25

_**February 2010**_

BPOV

_I was no longer in control of who I was. I was pain, nothing more and nothing less. I crawled on my belly, inching closer to the edge of the gorge, desperately trying to find someplace where I could no longer feel anything, would no longer need anything._

_I sobbed again, my body now trembling uncontrollably, my breathing erratic. As I reached forward to dig my fingernails into the soft earth to wrench my way forward, I felt arms around me, hard and cold. The arms wrapped around me and pulled. Pulled me away from the edge, pulled me back along the ground, the gorge falling into the distance as the arms just kept holding me._

_"Bella, come back to me. Wake up now, love. I've got you." The voice was a whisper in my mind, feather-light against my consciousness, barely heard over the pounding in my head and the force of my sobs. I reached out to dig my fingers in the dirt, but the texture of the dirt changed beneath my fingers, and I was digging into something soft and smooth while the cold, hard arms wrapped even tighter around my body. I could no longer feel the dampness of the mist._

Cool whispers murmured in my ear as I dared to open my eyes. I was on my bed, in my bedroom. I felt silken bronze hair tickling my face. Edward was holding me with a look on his face of fierce determination — to do what, I didn't know — to banish my nightmare?

_Was that only a nightmare?_

Was he determined to right our wrongs? I couldn't tell, and in that moment, I didn't care, because I was in his arms. Finally he was here again. And so I did the only thing I was capable of doing. I turned and threw my arms around him, my heart bursting with relief and joy, sorrow and loss, all at the same time. I buried my face into his shoulder and cried in pain, cried for relief of pain, cried for his love, and cried for him to accept love from me.

And as I sobbed, Edward just held onto me, grounding me through his touch, soothing me as he placed kisses on my neck and whispered my name. I started to calm, and my breathing became more measured while his strong hands were running up and down my back, slowly, tenderly, lovingly. I felt the muscles of his back under my hands, and I reveled in the sharp definition as I rubbed his back with the palms of my hands, memorizing him, reintroducing myself to him, feeling the ever-present spark between us as I drew him closer, wanting nothing to separate us.

I took a deep breath, taking in his sun and honey and letting it fill my head, and leaned back a bit so I could touch his face and gaze into his beautiful eyes. And as I watched I saw first a glimmer, and then the glimmer turned into a sparkle, and then his lips turned into a sweet smile as he said, "There you are. You had me worried there for a bit." Before I could answer his eyes dropped to my lips while he tentatively closed the distance between us, and brushed my lips with his own.

"You're here," I said, kissing him back. "You're really here," I repeated, reaching up to run my fingers through his hair. "I missed you so much, Edward," I said, kissing him again. "So much."

"I'm here," he answered, pulling me closer. "I'm not letting you go again."

Fire surged through me as I pulled his head down towards mine. With a growl rising from deep within his chest he crushed his lips to mine, bringing a hand to the back of my head and threading his long fingers into my hair as the other hand slid to my lower back and pressed me against his long frame until we were locked against each other, puzzle pieces snapping together as our bodies both heaved a sigh of relief as we dissolved into each other — marble against yielding softness.

Tears started flowing again, this time in happiness as my heart soared and my soul sighed with pleasure, knowing that, at least for this moment, my love had found its home again. His lips left my mouth and trailed across my jaw to my ear, to my neck, mumbling my name and his love as his fingers twined in my hair and his hand at my back stroked me, inflamed me, sliding up and then down — drawing down the curves of my body and back again. Sighing into my neck, into my ear, and then back to my lips, he kissed me again and again, his lips searing into me, branding me, owning me, as he took me as his.

He tore himself away and looked at me. I was overwhelmed by the love, the yearning, and the raw lust I saw in his eyes. He ran his fingers gently along the bottom of my t-shirt and then grabbed it and slowly pulled it up, over my head as I raised my arms and closed my eyes, feeling the cool air hit my body and my nipples harden with the sensation of both cold air and sheer anticipation.

I felt his purr before I heard it, his hands sliding up my sides and circling around to cup my breasts. His smooth fingers were gentle as they caressed my skin, sending burning flashes through me, causing my breath to come in gasps as he slid his hands to my back and lowered his head, pulling me forward while taking me in his mouth — suckling gently while his tongue circled and flicked and his hands stroked my back and pulled me even closer to him. My back arched as he pulled me off the bed, held in the air as his lips and tongue sucked and tasted and he purred and moaned. I was trembling, I was burning, I was being consumed by him, in him, for him. He trailed kisses down my stomach while gently laying me back on the bed — hooking his fingers into the waistband of my panties he gently peeled them down my legs, his nostrils flaring and his purrs slowly turning into growls.

I could feel his fear as he moved to the edge of the bed and stood, gazing up and down my body, his chest heaving as he started to unbutton his shirt, his eyes never leaving me. But the fierce determination returned as he shed the fear and, instead, chose to trust himself, to trust me, to trust us.

"Oh love, you are exquisite," he whispered. I felt a jolt go through my body, my soul as I remembered those words, those exact words spoken in a different time by someone else. But before I had time to process that thought, Edward's shirt slid off and I was mesmerized by the cold marble beauty of his chest, his arms, his strong shoulders. I let my eyes drift down, following his fingers as he unbuttoned his jeans, following his hand as he slowly lowered the zipper — pushing down his jeans and boxers — as I gazed unabashedly at the evidence of his arousal, and of his need.

My eyes flitted back to his face and I caught my breath when I saw the love and lust and yearning. His eyes bored into me as he took a deep breath.

"Mine?" he asked, a flicker of doubt and sorrow passed across his face. But I couldn't bear to see anything mar the magnificence of this man, not his body nor his soul nor his mind. I reached my arms out to him, pouring all the love in my being into my simple words . . .

"Yours. As you are mine."

And with a growl he closed the distance between us, and for the first time I answered with my own growl as I grabbed him and with all my strength crushed him to me as he gently parted my legs and slid in slowly, deeply, completely. I grabbed his shoulders tighter and lifted my hips, bringing him in further while murmuring into his shoulder . . .

"We belong to each other. We always have."

* * *

"Edward," I whispered, my throat still a little raspy from earlier, "will you tell me something?" We were bundled under the thick comforter, our bodies entwined and our hands soothing and caressing.

"Anything," he replied. "I can tell you how much I love you . . ." he kissed the tip of my nose. "How much I love this . . . little . . . mole . . . right . . . back . . . here," he dug his head under my hair and kissed the back of my neck. "How much your every wish is my command . . ." he brought my hand to his mouth and kissed it.

"Mmm," I was still luxuriating in his touch. "Those are all good things. Very, very good things," I smiled lazily at him. But then I got serious again. We needed to talk, and I didn't want to put it off any longer, no matter how blissful the last few hours had been. I needed to know why he had come back, why now. And I needed to know if he was going to leave me again.

I didn't beat around the bush. "Why are you here holding me in your arms again after a month of barely a touch between us?" I ran my hand across his chest and leaned down to place a small kiss there. "Don't get me wrong, there's nowhere I'd rather you be, but . . . what brought this on?"

He searched my eyes, looking for his own answers but I had none to give. Then he lowered his eyes and glanced to the far corner of my bedroom, as if he was searching for something else. He turned back to me and pulled me to his chest, kissing my neck and laying his head on my shoulder. He sighed deeply.

"I was at home and . . ." he pulled me tighter to him, "I felt your pain." I pulled back, confused and unsure if I heard him correctly. He stared into my eyes, and in that moment I realized how ancient they looked, how for the first time I could see his age, his long and lonely years reflected in the pain I saw in them now. It was pain that seemed as limitless as my own.

"How?" I breathed more than spoke that single word, lost in his gaze, wanting to see the torture disappear from his gorgeous eyes, feeling his agony along with my own. Our emotions hummed back and forth between us, building and calming, soothing and comforting. I reached a hand to his face and brushed his lips. He grabbed my hand and kissed each fingertip, then sighed again and drew me closer, putting his head back on my shoulder and stroked my hair.

"Something came to my room tonight, and in all my years I've never seen anything like it . . ." He kept stroking my hair while his voice seemed far away, lost in thought.

"It was without a distinct shape, more like a void in the air, but the power emanating from it was enormous." He pulled back a bit and looked at me, remorse filling his face as he moved his hand to my cheek, smoothing away the traces of my tears. "It told me you needed me, and then . . . it let me _feel_ why you needed me." His beautiful face twisted in agony for a moment, then he reached over and pulled me to him again. His chest shook with a sob.

I couldn't believe what he was telling me. That thing was real?

"Edward, I've seen it, too," I whispered, dazed by his revelation, "or something a whole lot like it. It was years ago, but it was just as you described." He pulled back and his expression changed to shock.

"When?"

I knew I had to edit, I couldn't tell him about the dreams; I couldn't tell him about my dream lover. I couldn't tell him about the time I had been so driven to despair I almost . . . well . . . I was immensely thankful he couldn't read my mind.

"I was at Cornell, and I was depressed. I was searching for something I never thought I'd find." I broke eye contact and gazed over his shoulder, hoping he wouldn't realize it was only part of the truth. "I was told . . . I was told to wait, it would come to me." I thought back to those words from years ago, and what it _really_ said — "_talk to him_."

But it meant my dream lover, _or did it?_ I looked back at Edward, my eyes searching his. It couldn't have meant Edward, could it? Was it possible the hallucination, supernatural force — whatever it was — came to me years ago with instructions that were to be followed now, _in this time and place? _

I felt as if a bubble had burst inside me, as if a membrane holding the years of just one symptom of my madness suddenly tore at the seam and washed me with relief. With a jolt I considered that, if Edward saw it too, maybe it wasn't a hallucination, and maybe I was okay after all.

Then I remembered I was lying in my bed, with a vampire, discussing a powerful entity that had shown itself to both of us, influenced both of us — and I was actually worrying about madness?

For the first time in what felt like forever, I genuinely wanted to laugh. I gazed at him, my Edward, and tried to show with my eyes what I couldn't bring myself to say right at this moment. I needed him to see my love.

And in his eyes I saw love reflected back at me — that hint of sparkle in his eyes as his mouth transformed into his breathtaking smile. He reached over and brought my face to his.

"I love you Bella," he murmured against my mouth. "I would give anything to take back the pain I caused you. I will spend the rest of my life, my existence, trying to make up for it." He kissed me softly, repeatedly, then brought his face to my neck and breathed deeply, running his fingers through my hair, soothing both of us with his touch.

"Shhh," I said. "I know." I drew back a bit, stroked his cheek, and sat up. My back resting against the headboard, I took his hand in mine. I wanted to talk more and needed the contact while we spoke.

"What do you think it is?" I asked. He knew what I meant. Sitting up next to me so that our shoulders were touching, he gazed into the corner again.

"It was here too, in that corner, when I got here last night," he said. He stared at the walls, as if they might provide an answer. "I don't know what it is, and I'm not sure what it wants with us, but thus far it doesn't appear to want to harm us."

"But it does seem to want to influence us, doesn't it?" I replied in more of a statement than a question. I thought back to that day at the gorge, and what it did to Edward tonight. An idea started to form, but it seemed so . . . improbable. Still, I ventured my theory.

"Do you get the sense it might be pushing us towards each other, almost as if it's protecting us, what we are to each other?" I looked over at Edward, wondering how he'd react to my words. He looked lost in thought, trying as I was to make sense of something that was a total mystery to us yet had the ability to impact us so thoroughly.

"I don't know Bella. It certainly wanted me to come to you tonight, no question."

Suddenly I wondered if we were better off just accepting it and leaving well enough alone. And at that thought, I felt overwhelmingly that we should do exactly that — just leave it be. And suddenly an anxiety started to build within me, as if something was compelling me to change the subject. I tried to focus my thoughts but they kept scattering, just out of reach. Shaking my head, I gave up and moved on.

I took a deep breath, knowing there was one topic that we still needed to discuss — because the elephant was still sitting in the room, and it was time. I tried to soften what might be painful by prefacing it with a smile.

"And are you now convinced you won't hurt me, that both of us working together can control your strength and instincts?" I squeezed his hand and leaned over to snuggle against his chest.

"Bella, I swear, I will never, ever allow myself to put you in jeopardy, especially not due to my thirst. I may still be a monster, but I will never lose control of my bloodlust with you again. Not after tonight." For the briefest moment I heard the return of self-loathing in his voice. "What happened before was my fault. But having you absent from my arms for the past month, and feeling your pain tonight . . ." he winced at the recollection, "I will never put either of us through that again. Ever. I promise there will never be a repeat." He gently held my head against his chest, massaging his fingers into my scalp, calming us both.

"And do you understand what you did that hurt the most?" I kept my head on his chest — it might be easier to say this if I couldn't see his face. When he hesitated I knew I had to just rip off the bandage as quickly as possible.

"You made the decision for both of us; you didn't allow me to be a part of it." I glanced up for a moment, to make sure he understood me. "You pulled a Casablanca on me Edward, and you abandoned me even though you were here every day." He groaned and pulled me closer.

"I know," he said simply, and in those two words I heard a month's worth of anguish. "Can you forgive me?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"Thank you," he whispered back to me and kissed the top of my head.

"Don't do it again. I don't think I'd survive it if you did it again."

"I know." He rested his head on top of mine and absently rubbed my back.

This was the last I would say about it, the last we would discuss it. I would not hold it against him, I would not make him pay for it every day. I squeezed him tighter, hoping he knew that his actions from now on were the only reassurance I needed.

We stayed like that for a very long time, wrapped in each other's arms and in our own thoughts. But there was one more thing I wanted to discuss with him, and this was the right time to do it.

"Edward, how do you define a monster?" I let my hand trace patterns over his chest. "I thought monsters were myths, and you're certainly no myth." I gave him a playful poke, then continued stroking him softly, keeping him calm and hopefully, keeping him listening.

"But I _am _a monster, Bella."

"Not to me. You never will be to me." I touched his cheek. "You know what I think you are?" Rolling my eyes, I added, "I mean _besides_ the perfect, wonderful, too-good-to-be-true love of my life, of course." He rolled his own eyes and I chuckled. "But seriously, Edward, I think you're a higher species."

His body froze — I had his attention.

I sat up and grabbed both his hands, looking him straight in the eye. "I think you're just a part of evolution. Just because you do what you need to do to survive, it doesn't make you a monster. _How_ each of us handles our basest instincts is what defines who we are. And you are, in my view, the finest person I have ever known."

Edward brought his eyes to mine and smiled. "What did Carlisle say to you in the emergency room that night?"

"What?" I didn't understand what he meant. "Nothing. What does Carlisle have to do with this?"

"You just sound like Carlisle, that's all. He believes the same thing. He's even studied our chromosomes. Vampires have 25 pairs, as opposed to a human's 23."

"You're saying I'm right?"

"Yes. Or Carlisle would say so, definitely."

"But do _you_ believe it?"

"Yes," he said softly, "Maybe I do."

"Will you make a deal with me then?"

"What kind of deal?"

"Please, Edward, don't ever refer to yourself as a monster in front of me again."

Suddenly two strong hands grabbed me and lifted me so we were eye level. His eyes were full of wonder as he stared at me, then crushed me to his chest. He held me under his chin and quietly said, "Deal." And then, for the first time since we met, I felt him completely relax as if he had just been relieved of a very deeply rooted source of tension. He felt softer, more _human_.

"I love you Edward. You never have been, and you never will be, a monster." I snuggled in closer. "You are, however, everything I have ever wanted."

**A/N:  
****(Edited to add) We just got a message from HMonster4. ****Perchance to Dream made it to the final round in the Indie TwiFic Awards in the category ****Best Collaboration! Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who voted for us in the first round!! We are so psyched to be nominated! ********We would really, really appreciate your help again in the final voting, which is scheduled for July 22 - July 26, 2009.**

Songs for Chapter 25

78. Come Here, by Marble Sounds. For Edward at the beginning of the chapter, who wants to hold Bella in his arms.

79. Duet, by Rachael Yamagata and Ray LaMontagne. For Bella and Edward coming back together after the incident, and for the lyric, ""I remember what we said as we lay down to bed; I'll be here if you will only come back home."

80. Thumbing My Way, by Pearl Jam. For Edward, who is trying to make things right, and is "thumbing his way back to heaven."

81. Citywide Rodeo, by the Weepies. For Bella telling Edward he's not a monster, and for the lyric, "I know that you think you're not good for anything."

**Listen to the songs by visiting my profile or going directly to  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Huge thanks as ever to my co-author FantasyMother. Please drop by our thread on the Twilighted forum in the Alternate Universe section. www[dot]twilighted[dot]net/forum**

**We will be back Monday with new chapters. Have a good weekend.**


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

* * *

Chapter 26

_**March 2010 **_

BPOV

_Was he out of his mind?_

"Who are you and what have you done with Edward Cullen?" I asked in a serious tone of voice.

He laughed. "What?" He looked down at his own arms and legs and patted them as if that would demonstrate their authenticity. "It's me."

"Are you feeling all right?" I stepped closer to him and laid my palm against his forehead. With my other hand I grasped his chin, pushing slightly so he would allow me to manipulate his head from side to side, examining him in a no-nonsense fashion. Surely there was something wrong with him.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm fine," he huffed, stretching out the "i" in "fine" in mock impatience.

I stood back, crossed my arms, and regarded him dubiously.

He was completely undeterred. He simply waved his outstretched hand at me again and said, "Come on, live a little. Let's do it."

"You know I can't."

"I know no such thing."

"Edward," I said flatly, "there are things that you and I do physically with this body that I never dreamed possible," I raised my eyebrows for emphasis, ". . . many wonderful, intimate things . . ."

_That _made his eyes roll back in his head a little and he let out a small purr.

". . . but I'm sorry, I just can't. This is out of my league."

He looked at me pleadingly, dejected. "But Bella, it will feel so good, I promise. Let me show you . . ."

* * *

_EARLIER . . . _

The whole day was one surprise after the other for me, although I suspected Edward had crafted our agenda in advance with precision. I was beginning to recognize "_planned spontaneity_" was no longer an oxymoron, but was instead an Edward Cullen trademark. And the truth was, I loved the way he planned surprises for me, from the smallest trifles to the grandest gestures, he always put so much thought into everything.

I think he did it because he liked to watch my reactions. He told me once that my reaction was the best thing that had happened to him all day. On that particular occasion, I came home after working late in the lab to find that he had made me a gourmet candlelight dinner. I was surprised, and I thanked him (okay, I _might_ have squealed in delight, but just a little bit). And yes, I hugged him (well, you _could _describe it as leaping up and throwing my arms and legs around him while planting kisses all over his face and neck, but only if you wanted to get _technical _about it). Anyway, I appreciated it. For a guy who was repulsed by human food, he was getting to be really good in the kitchen. I also suspected that he cooked more frequently because he didn't like me to use my knives anymore, and, really, I couldn't blame him for that. Even though the incident was thankfully behind us now, it wasn't a favorite topic for either of us.

Today had come about innocently enough. I was on my spring break, although I wasn't going anywhere to celebrate it. And that was just fine — I didn't want a stereotypical spring break. I sunburned easily, and it wasn't like Edward could go to a crowded beach resort. I wanted to stay home, wrap up my lab work before finals started, and get a jump on studying for exams. Plus, Edward's high school spring break didn't coincide with mine. All of which added up to no trip to Cancun or the Caribbean for us.

So I didn't give it another thought when Edward asked me last week, "What do you want to do for your spring break?"

"Huh?" I said, distractedly looking up from my organic chemistry book. "Oh. Uh, well, let's see. That would be . . . nothing." I explained my thinking to him. My reasons weren't just excuses; I really meant them.

He didn't say much, and seemed to accept my explanation without dispute. "I see." He nodded. "Will you do me a favor then, since we're staying here?"

"Sure, name it."

"Will you set aside that Friday for me, no questions asked?" He looked so eager, like he genuinely didn't know that I would say yes.

"The whole day?" I acted like I was considering it.

"The whole day."

"Okay, Friday it is. I'm all yours for the whole day," I told him. His face lit up with a brilliant smile.

"I'm all yours every day, you know," I added in a whisper that I knew he could hear.

He got up and took my O-chem book out of my hands, marked the place I'd been reading, and laid the book aside. "I love it when you say that," he whispered in my ear right before he took my earlobe in his mouth. His breath on my neck sent a shiver down my spine.

It was a few hours before I got back to my reading.

* * *

When I woke up Friday morning Edward was practically humming with excitement. He had stayed over, just as he had every night since we finally got past the incident. I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep with my head nestled into his chest, but instead of letting me catch a few more minutes of sleep, he placed one hand on my hip and the other under my arm, and I felt myself being levitated off the bed. My eyes shot open. He was holding me suspended in mid-air above him.

"The whole day. All mine. Remember?" He was grinning.

"Good morning to you, too," I laughed as I stretched my arms out and tried to reach him. But it was no use, his arms were longer than mine. "Planning on putting me down anytime soon?"

There was only a rush of air and a blur of motion, and the next thing I knew I was upright on my own two feet by the side of the bed. I swayed a little bit and gripped onto Edward for support while I got my bearings. "I don't know why I even bother to have an alarm clock anymore," I muttered.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, bending his knees so his face was level with mine. He kissed my forehead before asking, "You okay?" I nodded. "Good. Go get in the shower. I'll bring you your coffee. We've got places to be!"

"Do any of these aforementioned places have names, Edward?"

"Of course they do."

"And you're not going to tell me what they are, right?" Not that he'd given me any clues all week.

"Not on your life."

"Not on my life?" I repeated. "That was a bad pun, Mr. Immortal."

He just laughed. "Get in the shower." He pointed me toward the bathroom and gave a gentle nudge.

"I'm going, I'm going . . ."

An hour later, after I had showered and had coffee and breakfast, I was sitting in the passenger seat of Edward's Volvo as he sped us down the highway. It was an overcast day with occasional mist, and the windshield wipers slapped a lazy, intermittent rhythm while we drove.

I kept pestering him about our destination, but I was nearing the end of my guesses.

"World's biggest ball of string?"

"No."

"Scene of the last Bigfoot sighting?"

"No. But now that you mention it, I know that guy. He just has really big feet and— "

"Wait, what? You _know_ Bigfoot?"

"I've met him, yes. He's actually a nomad vampire. Size 16 shoe, hard to fit . . . goes barefoot most of the time." He shrugged. "Hence the name."

I looked at him for a second with my mouth half open. He was being completely serious. I shook my head and smiled, then leaned over the center console to kiss his cheek. "It is so _weird_ being your girlfriend sometimes."

"But you love me," he stated, looking at me out of the corner of his eye, as if to check that everything was still as it should be.

"That I do," I kissed him again, "that I do."

About 30 minutes later, he eased the car onto an exit ramp. I had read all the road signs leading up to this exit and thought nothing of them. In my mind, it was unthinkable that we could be going to the place that was so garishly advertised on every other billboard for the last 50 miles. We had to just be stopping for gas, I was sure of it.

I stayed in denial even as he pulled into the parking lot and followed the directions of an attendant who was waving us toward a space at the end of a row of cars.

"_This _is where we're going?" I asked in disbelief, still not able to comprehend it. "You brought us to Whirley World?"

"Yes," he said in a satisfied tone, turning to look at me as he set the parking brake and switched the ignition off. "You're surprised, aren't you?" His smile was huge.

"You could knock me over with a feather." I said with just a hint of sarcasm.

Whirley World was an amusement park. Not that I'd ever been here before. But I had heard people talk about it, and it was supposed to have some amazing rides, if you were into that kind of thing. Which I . . . _wasn't_. But I held my tongue, not wanting to hurt Edward's feelings. And, if I was honest with myself, I had no frame of reference for amusement parks or rides, having never been on anything other than a carousel before.

It turned out Edward and I were on pretty equal footing. When I asked him why he chose this place, he explained, "I've always liked Ferris wheels. Did you know the very first one debuted at the 1893 Chicago World's Fair?"

I shook my head and listened. I always liked it when Edward told me things about the past without being self-conscious about his long life.

He continued. "Well, after the World's Fair was over, they set the Ferris wheel up right near the neighborhood where I grew up, and it stayed there until 1904. My parents used to take me on it when I was very young. My memories of them are very remote now, and I have only the foggiest images of actually riding on the Ferris wheel because I was so young when it happened, but I still recall the way my parents talked about it."

I was charmed by his sweet recollection, and in my head I could see Edward as a toddler, in the arms of his parents, going round and round the big wheel at the turn of the last century. And then I realized he wanted to make a memory like that with me, and it made me reach for his hand and hold it.

"I wanted to bring you here," he said. "You've been putting a lot of pressure on yourself lately, so I wanted to take you to a place where you could let go of some of your stress. Besides, I've never been to an amusement park before, and I wanted to experience it with you."

We had reached the admissions booth. "Two all-day passes, please," he said to the woman in the booth, reaching for his wallet.

And with that, we were in.

* * *

As the park employee pushed the safety bar down onto our laps, I started to get second thoughts about the rollercoaster. I looked out at the track, and it appeared we were headed for several 360-degree loops and an untold number of curves, dips, and spins. And we were sitting in the very first seats! Loud rock music with a thrashing beat was blaring out of speakers on the ride platform.

"Are you sure this is safe?!" I screamed over the music as our car climbed the first steep incline of the course.

"Yes!" Edward shouted back. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you!"

I was going to respond to him, but before I could say anything, my stomach was slammed into my throat, the bottom dropped out of the whole world, and we were falling, falling, falling . . .

I involuntarily let out a scream at the top of my lungs. Everything felt so out of control. But I was giddy with the adrenaline rush, and as soon as my scream ended my laughter began.

I heard Edward laughing, too, and looked up at him as we were headed for the next dip. He was beaming at me. _Right_, I thought. He probably was as amused by watching my crazed reactions as he was by the ride itself.

"Raise your arms, Bella," Edward told me as we readied for the next drop.

Another yell from me and we were in freefall again. I couldn't believe how much I liked this, but it was completely liberating. I felt so weightless, so light, so free.

When our turn on the rollercoaster was over I immediately wanted to go again, but Edward persuaded me that the park had plenty of other rides to choose from. He was right. If it rotated, rollicked, flung, spun or rocked, we went on it. And we had a _blast_, every single minute. I thought again how much Edward really knew how to surprise me, always in the best ways.

After a few hours of the wildest thrill rides, we finally came to the Ferris wheel. It felt so peaceful and serene as the wheel slowly went round and round, affording us a bird's eye view of the park and, at least for me, some time to catch my breath after screaming myself silly for most of the day.

Edward leaned over and kissed me as we were stopped at the top of the ride. "Thank you, Bella," he said.

"What are you thanking me for?" I asked, genuinely perplexed.

"For coming here with me today, for being the best part of my life, for . . . everything." Even though we had been laughing all day, he spoke with seriousness now.

I brushed his hair back with my fingers and leaned my forehead against his. "You getting a little sentimental on me?" I asked softly.

"A little," he answered. I was pretty sure that, if he was capable, he would have had a few tears in his eyes as we sat here together at the top of the Ferris wheel.

"Okay," I said, and kissed his mouth softly. "I love you, you know."

"I know. I love you, too." He said quietly.

"I know." I smiled.

He put his arm around me and pulled me close as the Ferris wheel started to descend.

* * *

We walked through the amusement park at a leisurely pace, hand in hand. I thought we were wending our way toward the exit, but neither of us was in a big hurry. I was so relaxed. It had been a really good day.

We were in front of an amphitheatre when Edward suddenly stopped. I kept walking a half-step before I noticed he was no longer keeping pace with me. He still held my hand, so my arm was now stretched out behind me.

"Come on," he said with a gleam in his eye, tugging gently, trying to pull me toward the stage. Evidently, this was where the park hosted live musical shows, but today instead of live music, there was a DJ on duty. I hadn't noticed at first because nearly every ride at the park blasted a different kind of music, and my ears had started tuning it out. But to my horror, I noticed that _this _particular music was blaring in an amphitheatre which was doubling as a _dance floor_ for park attendees.

"Oh, no. No, no, no." I moaned.

He tugged my arm some more. "Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes."

_Was he out of his mind?_

"Who are you and what have you done with Edward Cullen?" I asked in a serious tone of voice.

And so we negotiated — me resisting, him persisting.

Finally he said, "Bella, it will feel so good, I promise. Let me show you . . ."

To my utter astonishment, he gracefully did a moonwalk in a circle around me.

I gasped. "What are you doing?!" _Edward moonwalks?_

"Moonwalking," he said, finishing up with a flourish. It looked like a jolt ran through his body, a current that moved up his torso and out through his outstretched hand. "And also pop-and-locking."

"So I see," I said with a laugh. And right then, I was sunk. I couldn't resist him when he was so carefree, so endearing, doing silly dance moves just to get me to laugh and join him.

"Dance with me, Bella," he said, holding his hand out once more.

I considered briefly whether I had anything to lose. Well, maybe my dignity. But he knew me, loved me, and nothing would change that. I gave a sideways glance at the crowd surrounding us. We'd never see any of these people again.

And so, with a deep breath, I scrunched my eyes closed, reached for his hand, and took the plunge.

He raised my arm and twirled me slowly, then kissed the back of my hand. And with that small gesture from him, I let go of my resistance.

Slowly, I started moving my hips in time with the music, raising my arms up and moving them, too. He moved with me, and as we had done all day, we just had _fun_. Gradually, the tempo of the music picked up, and I sped up my dancing little by little, closing my eyes, bobbing my head, feeling Edward's hand occasionally on my hip, on my waist. And then the music really started pumping. Before I knew it, Edward and I were jumping, pogoing up and down, tilting our heads to one side or another as we leapt around to the beat. We were both laughing, jumping, dancing, loving this. It was exhilarating and hilarious and goofy and I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so good, or so completely un-self-conscious.

We danced for a few more songs before I called out to him, "I need water!" I never knew dancing was such hard work.

He stopped and led me off the dance floor. "Ready to go?" he asked. And I was. We'd had a full day and still had a drive ahead of us to get back to my apartment. Weather-wise, it had been gray all day — thereby allowing Edward to spend the day continuously outdoors — but the sun was about to go down now.

"Yeah, let's go home," I said. He bought me a bottle of water on our way out.

* * *

The drive home was uneventful. I was tired, not very talkative. Just peacefully content. He held my hand as he drove.

When we got home, he parked in what had become his regular space in front of my apartment.

"You go on in," he told me. "I'm going to just clean out the car and put your empty water bottle in the recycling bin," indicating the blue bins on the other side of the parking lot. "I'll be right there."

"Okay, see you in a minute." I walked to my front door, unlocked it and went in. I was barely three feet inside the apartment when I felt it. A sharp, stabbing pain just behind my eyes, worse than I'd ever felt it before. My vision flashed with bright lights. I was dizzy, so dizzy I couldn't stand.

"Edwa— " I tried to say, but my words wouldn't work. As I fell to the floor the last things I saw were Edward's feet bounding toward me in a blur.

Then everything went black.

**A/N:**

**Last week's chapters were so angsty we needed a good dose of fluff today . . . well, except for that whole "everything went black" part there at the end. Sorry about that. Stay tuned. **

**Perchance to Dream is a finalist for an Indie TwiFic Awards in the category Best Collaboration. Thank you so much to everyone who voted for us in the first round. The final round of voting is scheduled for July 22 - July 26, 2009. For more information, please see ****www[dot]theindietwificawards[dot]com****.**

**Songs for Chapter 26 **

82. You Love Me, by Kimya Dawson. For Edward's "but you love me" in the car after Bella tells him how weird it is to be his girlfriend.

83. Genius of Love, by The Tom Tom Club. For Bella having a blast at the amusement park, and for the lyrics, "I'm in heaven, with my boyfriend, my laughing boyfriend, there's no beginning and there is no end, time isn't present in that dimension."

84. Glow, by Nelly Furtado. A pop song for Bella and Edward's fun day, for the lyrics, "I don't gotta tell you what to do, 'cause you run it; I don't gotta let you in my world, 'cause you rock it."

85. Hot, by Avril Lavigne. Another pop tune, for the lyrics, ""I can hardly breathe, you make me wanna scream, you're so fabulous, you're so good to me."

86. You! Me! Dancing! by Los Campesinos! For — what else? — the lyrics, "It's you! It's me! And we're dancing!"

**Listen to the playlist by visiting my profile or going to  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Huge thanks as ever to FantasyMother. Please drop by our thread on the Twilighted forum in the Alternate Universe section. www[dot]twilighted[dot]net/forum**

**We will post every morning Monday – Friday this week.**


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

* * *

Chapter 27

_**March 2010 **_

EPOV

_How did we end up back here? _I thought to myself as I sped Bella to the hospital. This was the third time in six months she was being rushed to the ER. _Damn it! _

One minute she was fine, the next minute I heard her garbled cry as the seizure took her without warning. I was able to catch her before her head hit the floor, and I stopped her from biting her tongue as she seized, but aside from those automatic responses, I felt useless.

I was barely able to contain my own panic. My body no longer produced adrenaline, but in response to this unknown threat to Bella's life, my senses were heightened in a way more powerful than the strongest adrenaline rush. She was my whole world. _I could not lose her._

Her seizure lasted for 3 excruciating minutes, after which she lay semi-conscious in my arms. Her pulse was weak and her breathing shallow. Not wasting a moment, I gathered her up and ran with her to the car, dialing Carlisle's cell phone as I went. "Bella just had a seizure and I don't know why. We're on the way right now!"

Ignoring all traffic laws, I gunned the engine and maneuvered around every other car on the road. My mind was racing even faster than the car. Any number of things could have caused this seizure — did she have meningitis? Undiagnosed epilepsy? Or worse, was it a brain tumor? Could _I _have caused this by taking Bella on all those rides? Had she somehow sustained a closed-head injury from being thrown around so much? I pressed the accelerator down further, feeling more helpless than ever.

"Hold on, love, we're almost there," I said as I stroked the back of her head. "Just another minute."

The tires squealed as I brought the car to a halt in front of the hospital's emergency entrance. I was annoyed to discover that, unlike last time, Carlisle was not waiting outside for us. Throwing my door open, I rushed around to the passenger side and curled Bella's small form against my chest, then burst into the trauma ward, calling for Carlisle.

He was walking toward me with a man I didn't recognize. As soon as he saw me, he thought, _Try to relax, Edward, for Bella's sake if nothing else. We're going to help her._

Someone appeared with a gurney for Bella, but I didn't want to let her go. I could not make myself do it.

"Edward," Carlisle said, putting a hand on my shoulder, "put her down now. It's all right."

A sob escaped my throat as I leaned over and laid Bella on the gurney. Hovering with my arms still wrapped around her, I whispered, "I won't be far," and kissed her forehead. "Carlisle will take care of you. I'll be right here."

Carlisle's hand squeezed my shoulder. _Son, let go. Let us help her._ He guided me until I released my hold on Bella.

"Edward, this is Dr. Peterson, Head of Neurology, and one of the country's foremost neurosurgeons. He will be handling Bella's case."

I perfunctorily shook his hand. "Pleased to meet you," I said.

Peterson appeared to be in his mid-forties, with receding salt-and-pepper hair that had gone completely gray at the temples. He wore small wire-rimmed glasses that gave him an intellectual appearance. His expression was serious.

Was this man smart enough to entrust with Bella's care? Why wasn't Carlisle attending to her personally?

_Neurology and neurosurgery are specialized fields, Edward, _Carlisle told me silently. _Hank Peterson is a fine doctor. I trust him. I wouldn't put Bella in his care if I didn't. And I will be consulting on the case, as well._

I nodded my head minutely and told Carlisle in a tone beneath human hearing range, "I don't care what it costs or where we have to go, I want her to have the best treatment. I'm prepared to fly her to the Mayo Clinic tonight if necessary."

_I understand that, Edward, but let's get her examined and diagnosed first._

Speaking again so only Carlisle could hear me, I said, "You and I both know this isn't good. A healthy, 23-year-old woman suddenly has a 3-minute grand mal seizure . . . She could have a tumor, an aneurysm, any number of lethal conditions." My voice broke on the last words.

_One step at a time, son. Let's find out what we're dealing with_.

My conversation with Carlisle occurred so quickly that Dr. Peterson was still withdrawing his hand from shaking mine by the time it was over. Peterson immediately began examining Bella, checking her vital signs and pulling her eyelids open, shining a small flashlight in her eyes.

"Her pupils are reactive; that's a good sign," he said to me. He called out her vital signs and a nurse noted them on a chart. "Let's get a CBC, Chem-20, CT and MRI with contrast on Miss Swan, stat," he said, and the nurse started to roll Bella away.

I reached out and ran my hand down Bella's arm before she was taken from me. _Bring her back!_ Watching a stranger roll her down a stark hospital corridor filled me with anxiety so acute it was physically painful, like something was knotting in my chest.

But then Dr. Peterson turned to me and started asking questions about the circumstances of the seizure, and I knew I had to be strong for Bella. If he was going to properly assess her, Peterson needed all available information, and I could give him that information. I left out no detail as he asked me what Bella had done today, what she had to eat and drink, whether she'd been suffering from a fever before the seizure happened.

But when he asked me about Bella's medical history, I grew frustrated once more. Had she ever had a seizure before? Not that I knew of, but I couldn't be sure. Did she have severe headaches or see flashes of light? If so, she had never told me about it. I cursed myself for not paying more attention, for never asking Bella these questions myself. I should have known this information! I felt useless to Bella. _Damn it!_

Dr. Peterson wrapped up his questions, closed Bella's chart, and said, "The tests are going to take some time. I'll page your father when she's out of radiology." Then he gave a polite nod and walked away.

I stood in the hallway, dumbstruck and not knowing what to do with myself. I hated feeling so helpless while Bella was in some other part of the hospital being touched and tested by people who had no idea how precious, how utterly essential, she was to me. Carlisle held out a steadying arm to me. _Easy does it, _he said silently, leaning in to support half my weight. _Come on, let's go to my office._ Defeated, I let him lead me.

* * *

I spent the better part of the next two hours in Carlisle's office, poring over his neurology texts and reading case studies from his computer. He did not try to stop me. Having lived with me for many decades, Carlisle knew that I needed to research, to study, to learn as much as I could so I could be prepared for what might happen with Bella. I also desperately needed to feel I was helping her, and this was the only way I could do it at the moment. In his quiet, compassionate way, Carlisle simply handed me the texts I requested and pulled case studies from the computer for me. Occasionally he patted my back and handed me more material.

Before long, the entire surface of his desk was covered with articles and studies about brain dysfunction. Carlisle listened calmly and nodded without much in the way of comment while I voiced every conceivable theory about Bella's condition, pointing out comparative studies and academic disputes in the literature. I spoke in one long, continuous stream-of-consciousness. To a human, I would have appeared insane, like an obsessed schizophrenic having a manic episode, but Carlisle knew that I was merely doing a rapid uptake of information. There was nothing wrong with me aside from a monumental need to understand what was threatening Bella so I could make it go away.

I had digested, analyzed and theorized all available details on twenty-seven neurological conditions when Carlisle's pager started vibrating. Bella was back in the trauma ward after her tests.

Instantly, I leapt to my feet and was in the hallway, headed for the ER.

_Remember where you are, Edward. Slow down. She's not going anywhere._

I slowed my pace slightly and managed to meet Bella in the hallway as she was being rolled back into the emergency ward. She was awake now, although she looked very tired. Her face brightened when she saw me and she reached her hand out toward me. I crossed the distance between us and came to her side.

"I've been told before that I ought to get my head examined," she said with a weary smile and a roll of her eyes, "but this is ridiculous."

"Very funny," I bent down, stroked her face, and kissed the top of her head, my tension easing slightly now that I could touch her again. "How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy mainly. When can we go?"

The nurse set the brake on the gurney and pulled a curtain around Bella. "The doctor should be right in," she said.

Within moments, Dr. Peterson and Carlisle joined us. I immediately concentrated on Peterson's mind . . . _Want to get a functional PET scan to be sure . . . need to be right about this . . . they have one at Cornell . . . can get her in tomorrow morning . . ._

_Oh no_, I thought with a sinking feeling of dread. I'd spent the last two hours reading about PET scans in diagnosis. PET stood for Positron Emission Tomography, and it was a tool for measuring areas where the brain's metabolic function is slow or absent. A PET scan could graphically depict brain dysfunction with animated images, giving view to the most devastating brain conditions. _OhBellaBellaBella. What is wrong with your frail human body? How can I fix this?_ my own thoughts screamed.

Carlisle met my eye and subtly gestured with his hand for me to wait, to calm down. _Hold on, Edward. Don't assume the worst._

Dr. Peterson cleared his throat and said, "Miss Swan, from everything I can tell, you appear to be stable. I have not been able to come to a definitive diagnosis yet. I want to send you for one more test in Ithaca tomorrow morning. We've made a 10:00 a.m. appointment for you. Don't have anything to eat or drink from now until after the test is over."

Bella nodded.

"After that," Peterson continued, "I'd like to see you in my office at 9:00 a.m. Monday morning, by which time I'll have had the chance to study all the results and reach a diagnosis. In the meantime, I'm writing you a prescription for an anti-seizure medication. You can get it filled at the hospital pharmacy on your way out."

He scrawled the prescription on a pad and held it out to Bella. I reached over and took it.

"My nurse can give you directions to the PET Center at Cornell. I assume you'll be the one who takes her?" Peterson said to me.

"Yes."

"All right." Dr. Peterson looked at Bella, then at me. "Listen, I know you're both worried, but do yourselves a favor. Try and have a normal weekend. Don't spend all your time worrying about this."

Peterson seemed to be speaking from experience in dealing with patients with difficult diagnoses. Although his advice was undoubtedly sound and kindly meant, I wasn't sure I would be able to follow it.

"If you have any questions in the meantime, my cell number is on this," he handed me a business card. "And if Miss Swan has any other incidents over the weekend, don't hesitate to have me paged," he said, looking at Carlisle.

"Thanks, Hank," Carlisle said, shaking Peterson's hand. "We appreciate it."

"Yes, thank you, Dr. Peterson," Bella said.

"You're free to go. I'll see you Monday at nine, and we'll talk in detail then."

* * *

In my rush to get Bella into the hospital earlier, I had abandoned my car by the emergency entrance, leaving its doors wide open and the keys in the ignition. At some point, Carlisle had it moved to the hospital's regular parking lot. As Bella and I were leaving, he handed me the keys before giving me a hug and telling me to call if I needed to talk. Turning to Bella, he briefly took her hand and said, "Be well, Bella."

When Bella and I stepped outside into the cool night air, it was past 10:00 p.m. and the cloud cover made it particularly dark. I briefly scanned the parking lot, spotted the car, and started leading Bella toward it. She flatly refused my suggestion that I carry her, insisting she was fine to walk.

Knowing all the possible afflictions that could be plaguing her without knowing _exactly_ what had caused her seizure was nearly driving me to distraction. Nonetheless, I tried to put up a calm front, as both Carlisle and Dr. Peterson had advised.

She saw right through me, of course.

"Hey," she said, bumping her shoulder lightly into my chest as we walked. "Stop looking at me like that." She wrapped her arms around my waist and squeezed me into a sideways, walking hug.

"Like what?" I asked, drawing my arm around her shoulders and pressing my lips to the top of her head.

"Like I'm about to break."

"Bella— " I started, but she cut me off.

"Edward, I know you're worried." _That was an understatement. _"I know none of this is normal. But please, please let's try to do what the doctor said. Let's just try to be normal until we know what's going on, okay?" She sighed. "I'm already . . . "

"You're already what?"

"I'm already scared enough," she whispered. "Don't make it worse by treating me like an invalid. Just be with me," she looked up at me with pleading eyes.

"I— " I hesitated, stifling a sob so she wouldn't hear it. "I can't stand the thought of los— "

"Don't say that," she interrupted. "We don't know anything yet. This could all turn out to be nothing."

"All right," I said, more skepticism in my voice than I wanted her to hear. I settled her into the passenger seat of my car, and as I walked around to the driver's side I willed myself to do as Bella asked.

Getting behind the wheel, I forced a smile onto my face and looked over at her. She scrutinized my eyes and I was fairly certain she could read my true feelings of panic there. Then she reached her hand over and stroked my cheek, looking at me so sweetly that it pierced my chest right where my unbeating heart was.

"It's going to be okay," she said. "Whatever happens, we'll get through it."

I wanted to crumple into a ball and wail; I wanted to take her in my arms and beg her to be all right and never leave me; I wanted to curse the fates that brought her into my life only to threaten to snatch her away so cruelly.

Instead of doing any of these things, I simply nodded and started the car, pointing us in the direction home.

When we got her apartment, Bella wanted to go right to bed, and I was glad — I was ready to have her in my arms while she slept. I never tired of the sensation of her small, warm body pressed against mine, especially in the innocence of her sleep. And so I turned down the covers and plumped Bella's pillows while she washed her face and got ready for bed. She didn't need to hear all the horrible, possible diagnoses that I'd voiced earlier with Carlisle; that would only upset her more. She asked me for a normal weekend, and I would try to give it to her.

She was yawning as she crawled into bed and snuggled her back against my chest. I wrapped my arms protectively around her and buried my nose in the nape of her neck.

"I love you, Edward," she breathed.

She was asleep within minutes.

I spent the entire night observing everything about her. I counted her respiration, her heart rate, her REM rate, even her soft snores. Very carefully, so as not to disrupt her sleep, I examined her fingernails for signs of discoloration. I examined her hair for signs of dullness. I probed the lymph nodes in her neck and under her arm. I ran my fingers all over her body feeling for lumps or foreign growths. I even used my heightened sense of smell to test for any imbalances in her body chemistry.

The night passed quickly as I mentally tabulated all the minutiae of my observations — but all of my data still left me bereft of any conclusions about the cause of her seizure.

As the sun rose, I was repeating my data gathering, to see if anything had changed. I started with the sniff tests. I put my nose as close to Bella's ear as I could get it and deeply inhaled, searching for signs of any undue chemicals in her brain. _Only the faint trace of the anti-seizure prescription she'd been given_. Moving on, I sniffed her eyelids. _Nothing out of the ordinary._ I bent down and aligned one of my nostrils with one of hers and again breathed deeply. I was in this awkward position when I heard a familiar voice.

"Edward, is there something you need?"

I froze where I was and glanced up to see Bella staring down at the place where my nose was locked with hers. She looked sleepy, perplexed, and slightly amused.

"Um… no?" I said uncertainly, slowly withdrawing my flared nostril from hers, and smiling awkwardly.

"Want to tell me what you're doing?"

"Not really," I said, laying my head against her chest. I pulled one of her hands to my face, using it to cover my eyes. I was embarrassed to be caught. She brought her other hand up to my hair and stroked my head.

"All right," she said, running her hand through my hair again and letting a few seconds pass. Then she chuckled and asked, "Do you do that often? Cram your nose up my nostril while I'm asleep?" Her voice took on a sincere tone, "I mean, if it's what you're into, I guess we could . . . "

"No!" I protested, more embarrassed now. "It's not like that! I was only— "

She laughed again, a little bittersweetly. "I know what you were trying to do," she sighed. "It's okay. I shouldn't tease you."

_Right, she was teasing_._ I knew that._

"But let's go get the big fancy hospital test today, too, okay? Then you and Carlisle can compare it with the results of your sniffing. Sound good?" she asked, smiling at me encouragingly.

"Sounds good," I said, and hugged her close. I took the opportunity to sniff her carotid artery as we embraced.

"I felt that," she said warningly.

"Sorry, can't help it," I muttered.

* * *

When we got to the Cornell PET center I tried to go in the test room with Bella, but they wouldn't let me. So I was forced to wait. And wait. And wait some more. Bella was gone for two hours and twelve minutes. I passed the time by counting each of the seven thousand, nine hundred and twenty seconds until she came back to me.

I jumped up and took her into my arms when she reappeared in the waiting room.

"How was it?" I asked, noticing that she had a band-aid on the inside crook of her elbow.

"Kind of cool," she said. "They injected something into my vein and then watched how my brain processed it."

I knew the mechanics of the PET scan. Glucose and a small amount of a radioactive isotope are injected into the patient's vein so that the brain's processing of the glucose can be monitored. The test measures how the brain consumes the "fuel" of the glucose, and the brain's metabolic activity is projected into graphic images that can be combined to make a realistic animation of the brain's function.

"Could you see the screen?" I asked. I was still upset that they wouldn't allow me in the test room. All I wanted was to see that damn screen.

"I could see it from an angle," she said. "But it didn't really make sense to me. It just looked like a brain, you know?"

"Yes," I said, knowing that Bella wasn't trained in what to look for. Carlisle and Dr. Peterson would get a DVD of the images, and I'd be able to see them later. Before we left, I confirmed with the receptionist that Bella's results would be couriered to Peterson's office that day.

"Hungry?" I asked her as we stepped out of the test center.

"Starving!" she said. "Hey, would you mind if we go to my favorite sandwich shop? It's right near here."

"Show me the way, love. Whatever you want, I'll get it for you," I said without the slightest exaggeration. If she wanted to fly to Paris to have lunch at a sidewalk cafe, I'd charter a plane.

Her request turned out to be much more modest: An organic deli, where she ordered turkey, bacon and melted Swiss on a homemade baguette with spring greens and a side of potato salad. We sat at a rickety little table in the back while she consumed the sandwich.

"Mmm, I've missed this place," she said.

I asked her whether she used to come here often, and she shook her head. "My undergrad scholarship included a meal card to use in the campus cafeterias, but it didn't extend to off-campus restaurants like this," she explained. "Eating at this place was a big indulgence for me. I'd come in after exams or to celebrate finishing a big paper."

She looked so beautiful, so healthy, so vibrant. Her lunch cost eleven dollars and thirty two cents. I'd pay exponentially more than that if I could guarantee that she would remain as healthy and happy as she seemed right now.

As she ate, she studied my face carefully, at one point reaching her fingertips up to trace the skin under my eyes. I knew what she saw there; the circles were getting darker every day, and my irises were nearly black.

"Edward, when was the last time _you_ ate?"

I didn't want to tell her that I hadn't hunted since I resumed spending nights at her apartment. I didn't like to be away from her, and spending each night holding her close was better than anything else in my world, including hunting trips.

Of course, she would have known that I hadn't eaten even if it weren't written all over my face. I didn't leave her side without telling her where I was going. She wasn't my keeper and I didn't tell her my whereabouts out of obligation; we were simply so connected that I wanted her to know where I was at all times, and vice versa. It was what we did.

"You need to hunt," she stated, not leaving room for debate.

"I'm not going to leave you right now," I protested.

"You have to eat," she pressed.

"I'm fine, love. All I need is to be where you are."

She sighed and looked at me sadly, the corners of her eyes filling with tears. "Edward," she said with a slight tremor in her voice, "if whatever this is . . ." she waved a hand toward her head. "If it turns out to be . . . _bad_ . . . you leaving me to go hunt will be harder for both of us." She looked at me and said for emphasis, "Much harder."

She was right, I knew.

"Go hunting tonight. Go now so you won't need to go later. That's how you can help me the most." She put her hand on top of mine. "Will you do that for me? Please?"

I glanced down at our joined hands and sighed. She had a point, and I did need to feed. I looked up at her and nodded my head slowly. "But I won't go far," I said firmly. "I'll be back in the early morning before you even wake up. Then we'll spend Sunday together doing whatever you want," I told her.

"Whatever I want?" she said excitedly. "I'm going to hold you to that," she practically hooted as she raised her eyebrows twice in rapid succession, looking mischievous.

"I'm sure you will," I chuckled. _I'll always give you whatever you want, Bella._

* * *

Before leaving Bella alone, I programmed the number for Carlisle's pager into her speed dial just in case she had a health incident while I was away. I also called Carlisle to let him know that I needed him to be on call for Bella while I was hunting. He agreed without hesitation, and even complimented me for being able to tear myself away from her during this trying time. Carlisle and I also talked briefly about the PET scan. He said he'd be viewing the results with Dr. Peterson tomorrow, and asked me if I wanted to join them.

"No," I told him, "I'm going to spend the day with Bella; it's what she wants. I'll get the results when she does."

Again I sensed that Carlisle was somehow proud of me for this. I thanked him and told him I'd see him Monday morning.

I pressed Bella's phone into her hand before I left and said, "I'm not going far, and I'll definitely be within cell range. If you need anything, _anything _at all, I am number one on the speed dial, and Carlisle is number two. All you have to do is call. I can be back in a flash."

"I know," she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss me at the door. "Just go. Hunt. Have fun. I'll be here when you get back."

As much as it hurt to tear myself away from Bella, once I got into the woods I felt energized, letting my animal instincts take control. I pumped my legs and whipped through the forest at top speed, enjoying the familiar rush that came when I opened up my own throttle and gave in to my true nature.

Testing the air, I caught the scent of a group of deer to the southeast and abruptly changed course, heading right for them. Four does, a buck and two fawns, if I calculated correctly. I would take the buck and leave the does and fawns, in keeping with the hunting laws.

Sprinting silently toward my prey, I felt the unmistakable sensation that I was no longer alone. Within moments I knew that it was here, the pure presence, my intermittent hunting companion for so many years. The sweet tendrils reached out toward me, and I welcomed them just as I had the last time they joined me in the hunt. And then, as I hoped, I saw it . . . the elusive, spritely figure, the dancing silhouette that I thought was Bella the last time it joined me.

"Is that you, love?" I asked the air, looking around and trying to catch her in my sights. But the figure flitted away before I could see her clearly.

"I'm hunting, like you asked me to," I said softly, not knowing for sure whether I was talking to anyone besides myself.

I could see the deer now. They were grazing, unaware of my proximity. With a single, efficient leap, I had the buck in my grasp and brought my jaws to his neck, latching onto a vein and draining him quickly. The others ran away in panic, as I expected them to. As unappetizing as it was, the deer's blood sustained me, and I could feel my equilibrium resetting as I drank him dry. I quickly disposed of the carcass and began sampling the air for the scent of my next prey.

As I stood and looked around, I could still feel the pure presence, and in the corners of my vision, I thought I saw the spritely figure. "Still with me?" I asked it, unsure of where it was.

And then I heard a twig snap to my left, followed by an angelic voice that said, "Yes."

I spun and was shocked at what I saw. She was an apparition, a translucent, silvery shadow, like she was made of moonlight.

She was about ten feet away, and was walking toward me. "We need to talk," she said.

I nodded mutely, not sure I believed what I was seeing. Eventually, though, I found my voice and used it to ask her a single question.

"What do you want to talk about, Bella?"

**A/N:**

**Perchance to Dream is a finalist for an Indie TwiFic Award in the category Best Collaboration. The final round of voting is scheduled to start tomorrow (July 22). For more information, please see ****www[dot]theindietwificawards[dot]com****. Thanks so much.**

**Songs for Chapter 27 **

87. In the Sand, by Kashmir. For Edward worrying about Bella, and for the lyrics, "wayward and high strung, she is lovesick and ever so strong, then it's over like none of it ever was real."

88. Porcelain, by The Red Hot Chili Peppers. For Edward worrying and thinking Bella is as fragile as porcelain.

89. Can't Find My Way Home, by Blind Faith. For Edward feeling so lost and wanting to crumple up and wail, but instead just driving them home.

90. Hallelujah, by Rufus Wainwright. For Edward's sadness.

91. If You're Into It, by Flight of the Conchords. For Bella catching Edward sniffing her and teasing him about whether he's "into it."

**Listen to the playlist by visiting my profile or going to  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Huge thanks as ever to FantasyMother. Please drop by our thread on the Twilighted forum in the Alternate Universe section. www[dot]twilighted[dot]net/forum**

**Thank you to everyone who is reading, favoriting and reviewing. More chapters on the way each weekday this week.**


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

* * *

Chapter 28

_**March 2010 **_

BPOV

_In the silvery haze of my dream, I set out to find him. My dream lover, the one who had been there for me for so many years. The man who, at times, had been my reason for living. He had loved me secretly, tenderly, in the cloudy, parallel universe of my dreams — and I had loved it, and him, so very much — so much that I guarded that secret world with my life, ignoring my body's own warning signs in order to protect the perfection of my dreams. _

_I came upon him in a forest. Although some time had passed since I last saw him, he still took my breath away. He would always be my first love. I looked up at him and, as I had come to expect, saw only a blurry mask instead of any details of his face. But in all other respects, he appeared in perfect clarity, like an animated version of Michelangelo's David come to life in my dream. _

_I took a steadying breath and said, "We need to talk." _

* * *

I had made the decision a few days before. It was time. It was past the time, really.

It struck me in a moment of clarity when I was in the hospital after my seizure. I had woken up in a confused state, not knowing where I was. Dr. Peterson was there, and he explained to me that I had a seizure and they were doing some tests to see what had caused it. He also assured me that Edward was waiting for me in another part of the hospital with his father.

Then Dr. Peterson started asking me a series of questions about my medical history. It all seemed pretty routine until he asked whether I had ever had dizzy spells, severe headaches, or seizures before. I thought back to the episodes that had started when I was a student at Cornell. The headaches, the dizziness, my own fear that I had a grand mal seizure disorder. When I explained my past incidents to Dr. Peterson, his expression did not change, but he started writing furiously on my chart.

That's when I knew. Whatever this was, it was bad. He wouldn't be writing it all down otherwise.

_Oh shit. Shitshitshitshit. _I was scared. _What had I done to myself?_

For years I had ignored my own symptoms because I hadn't wanted anything to take my dreams away, and I believed that whatever caused the seizure-like effects was the same thing that allowed me to be with my dream lover. But now . . . _oh, shitshitshit_ . . . instead of subsisting on my dreams, I had found real love with Edward . . . Edward, whom I could reach out and touch in my waking life . . . Edward, who walked beside me every day and who held me every night . . . Edward, who supported me in every way . . . Edward, who was _not_ a dream, but was _real_. I would give up my dream lover in a heartbeat — I would give _anything_ up — if I could just have Edward. If I could just be all right enough not to be torn away from the best thing that had ever happened to me.

_But had I pushed my luck too far? Ignored my health for too long? Shit._

Once my tests were over and they brought me back to Edward, there was no mistaking the anguish in his eyes. He seemed nearly out of his mind with worry, and his hair was sticking up in every direction. I had no doubt that he had been frantically running his hands through it as he contemplated what might be wrong with me. Even now he was aimlessly tugging on tufts, seemingly unaware he was doing so.

Not wanting to worry him even more, I put on a brave face. When he started to tell me how worried he was about losing me, I shushed him. Even though I was just as scared as he was, I had to cling to the hope that everything might turn out all right. I had to wait and see if the doctors could salvage the mess that I might have made with my own health.

When Edward and I went to Ithaca the next day to get my PET scan, we drove right past my old dorm. I thought back on all the sweet memories of my dream lover, who had visited me in that very dorm night after night, transforming my humble room into a utopia where dreams came true. My dream man had brought me love, acceptance, and joy. He made me feel beautiful and wanted. Whatever state of consciousness had allowed me to be with him, I had embraced it without reservation.

And now it was time to deal with the consequences.

So, that night, I persuaded Edward to get out of the apartment, to leave me alone for the evening and go hunting. He needed to take better care of himself, especially if whatever was wrong with me turned out to be serious. I knew that if my situation was really bad, there would be no limit to the self-sacrifices he would make to take care of me. The best I could do now was make sure he at least fed himself.

But I had also wanted Edward to go hunting so that I could be alone. If I was right and my condition had allowed me to create an alternate reality that I shared with an amalgamation of my perfect man, it was all about to go away. The treatment for my illness would obliterate the dream world, I felt sure. And I needed to let it go. I couldn't be with my dream lover anymore, not since Edward had become the center of my life. If I were to continue to be with my dream lover, even just for subconscious emotional support, I would feel like I was betraying Edward.

So tonight, I was going to say goodbye, once and for all, to the man who had been the best dream I had ever had.

I kissed Edward at the door and sent him off to hunt. Shortly afterwards, I went to bed, determined to enter my dream world and find the man who dwelled there.

* * *

"_What do you want to talk about, Bella?" my dream lover asked me after I had found him._

"_Come with me," I said, reaching out for his hand. I pulled him along, and in that amorphous way that is unique to dreams, the woods around us dissolved into the familiar setting of my bedroom. I let go of his hand and sat on the edge of the bed, gesturing for him to sit beside me. Tentatively, he did so, and waited for me to speak._

_Although I knew what I had to do, I was overwhelmed with sadness. He was so dear to me. He had always been the perfect lover and friend, his strength a constant comfort to me. And he had done nothing to deserve what I was about to do._

_A sob slipped out as I said to him, "__You're my first love."_

"_I was planning to be your last," was his response, as he took my hand again._

_I lowered my head and more sobs escaped. God, this hurt. I didn't know if I could get through it. "You have meant so much to me. More than you could know."_

_He stiffened a little. "Why are you speaking in the past tense, love?"_

_I had to say it. "Because I can't be with you anymore." I couldn't stop the tears from running down my cheeks. _

"_What? What do you mean?" His arms reached for me then, but I resisted. "Bella." A pause. "Love?" _

"_No," I said, choking on my sobs and turning my shoulder away from him. "Don't make it any harder than it is." I wanted nothing more than the comfort of his embrace, but I couldn't be that selfish, that cruel._

"_What are you saying? You can't mean this," he said, his voice stilted with pain and bewilderment._

_I spilled out a rush of words in an attempt to explain. "I have to say goodbye to you. It's . . . complicated. I'm sick. And I think the doctors are about to take away my ability be with you. But even if that weren't true, I wouldn't be able to be with you anymore."_

"_Take away . . . what?" He was confused. "Why can't we be together anymore?" _

"_Because there's . . . someone else." There, I'd done it._

"_Some . . . one . . . else?" he repeated slowly, sounding crushed. From the rasping sound his breath made as he drew it in, I knew my words pained him deeply. "You want to be with someone else?" He asked again, as if he couldn't believe it._

"_Yes." Guilt pressed on my chest like a heavy weight. It was hard to breathe. "I'm so sorry," I whispered._

_After a long pause, my dream lover let out a resigned sigh. "I hope he's worthy of you."_

"_I am not sure I'm worthy of him," I answered. "He is so good to me, and I love him so much. I can't be without him. And because of him, I can't be with you anymore."_

"_Bella, listen to me," he said, trying to talk me out of it. "You're sick. You don't know what you're saying."_

"_I know I'm sick," I agreed. Deciding to tell him more, I explained, "I had a PET scan today at the Cornell hospital, and I go back to the doctor on Monday to find out for sure what's wrong with me." And, adding the piece of information that I had wanted to shield Edward from knowing, I confessed, "I am so scared. I've never been so scared in my life."_

"_I know," my lover soothed me. "I'm scared, too." And this time, when he tried to pull me into his arms, I didn't resist. It was a natural instinct for us both, and I was too selfish to stop it as I relaxed into his embrace._

_His hand rubbed up and down my back as I rested my head on his chest and kept confessing. "I know there's something wrong with me. I can feel it." Not wanting him to mistake my meaning, I continued, "But whatever is wrong with me, I can't cope with it in a dream. I have to deal with it in reality. And that means saying goodbye to you and embracing real life, no matter what it brings."_

_Understanding seemed to dawn on him as he absorbed what I said. "You want to be with your real-life lover from now on, is that it?"_

_I took a deep breath and held it for a second. "Yes," I said, letting out a long exhale. "That's it exactly." I was relieved that he seemed to understand._

_I reached up to touch his face then, regretting once more that I had never seen it clearly. "I can't go through life in a dream anymore."_

"_And you think that means saying goodbye to me?" he asked. "Because I'm just a dream? A fantasy?"_

_I nodded my head as I hugged him, mourning the loss of our beautiful first love. But I knew I had to make this choice for myself and Edward._

"_You will always be in my heart," I told him._

"_Yes, love," he said, "Always. And you in mine."_

_I was crying hard by then._

"_Shhhh," he said calmly, stroking my hair, my back. "It will be all right." Then he took my upper arms in his hands and pushed gently to get me to sit up. _

"_You should open the door now." No longer sounding hurt, he was instead soothing, encouraging me. I was astounded at his unselfishness._

_I blinked dumbly at him, not understanding what he meant._

"_It's all right now," he said again. "Just open the door."_

_He put his hand on the side of my face and leaned down to kiss my forehead. "Just open the door now," he said gently. "I love you. It will be all right. Open the door."_

_He repeated the same thing like a mantra until he dissolved from view. _

His words still rung in my ears as I got up from the bed and stumbled to the front door of my apartment. In a daze, I automatically began undoing the locks. Grasping the knob in my hand, I turned it and flung open the door, not knowing what I would find.

It took my eyes a moment to focus, because they were still filled with tears. But once I could see, there was no mistaking him. He was there, in the hallway, sitting down just outside the door. Dry sobs still shook his frame, and yet at the same time he seemed to be laughing with joy.

He looked up at me and broke into a beatific smile that radiated awe and wonder.

"I told you it would be all right if you opened the door," he said to me.

It was Edward.

* * *

EPOV

The emotional impact of what happened had thrown me to my knees. One minute I was hunting in the forest, the next minute Bella had appeared before me in a fantasy and tried to break up with me. In my sorrow, I began running back to her apartment, needing to get to her, needing to break the spell of this nightmare where Bella was breaking my heart and telling me that she was in love with someone else.

But as I listened to Bella in my fantasy, it finally dawned on me. Despite the fact that it was impossible, despite the fact that it was unbelievable, the truth struck me like a bolt of lightning and it could not be denied. Although I had suspected things here and there over the years, I knew it with certainty now. Bella and I were more than real-life lovers. We had been lovers for all of these years in another dimension as well.

_My fantasies, Bella's dreams, all of them had been real. Our fantastical connection was real. It always had been. _

Bella staggered at the shock of seeing me in the hallway. In an instant I was on my feet and swooped her into my arms.

"Edward?" She looked at me in surprise. "What is happening?" Her cheeks were still streaked with tears.

I kissed her lips and carried her back across the threshold into her apartment, closing the door behind us.

"You're not really breaking up with me, are you?" I asked with a roguish grin.

"But . . . what? . . . How did you know?" She stammered, clearly thinking about the conversation she just had with the lover of her dreams, and not understanding how I could know about it.

Before I could answer, understanding lit up her eyes. "It was you?" she said, astonished. "You were the man in my dreams?! It was real, all this time?"

"Yes, I think so," I said. "Your dreams, my fantasies," I nodded. "They were _our reality_."

"I can't believe it! I thought I was crazy!" Her words came out in a rush as she scrambled to put years' worth of puzzle pieces together. "He smelled just like you and he knew my name and he said some of the same things that you said and— " Suddenly she stopped.

"You said 'fantasies.' Is that how you saw me? While I dreamed about you, you were imagining me?"

"I believe so, yes." I brought my lips to hers, tasting Bella mixed with the salt of her tears. "I have wanted you from the first moment I set eyes on you, and for years I fantasized that you were mine." I kissed her again.

She threw her body around me and laughed.

"You know what this means, don't you?" I asked, trying to sound serious and failing, as my own laughter bubbled to the surface.

"What?" she asked, pulling her face back to look me in the eyes.

"I think this means we're destined to be together, no matter what," I answered earnestly.

"I think so, too," she agreed. "Between this and the powerful force that brought you back to me, I think the universe might be trying to tell us something. Oh my god!" She sounded as awestruck as I felt.

And then she kissed me with so much passion that my knees nearly buckled. Swiftly I carried her to the bedroom and laid her on the bed.

"Bella, love, do you think it's possible that we could outdo ourselves? I mean, top what we've already done in my fantasies and your dreams?" I was standing by the side of the bed and stripping off my clothes. With an air of mischief, I raised my eyebrows twice in quick succession.

With a knowing glint in her eye, Bella sat up and whipped her t-shirt over her head, and scooted out of her panties. Then she laid back against the pillows, naked and perfect as an angel, and opened her arms to me. "Oh, I think we can do that, Edward." She grinned. "We should at least _try_, shouldn't we?"

"No harm in trying. Right. Words to live by," I said as I leapt to the bed and enveloped myself in her scent, her body, her love.

Bella, the woman of my fantasies, the love of my life, was _real_. She always had been.

And so we spent the rest of the weekend embracing the reality of our love, and holding back the reality of Monday at 9:00 a.m. as long as we possibly could.

**A/N:**

**Whew! So, E/B finally figured out that they'd been connecting in another dimension all these years. Did it play out the way you hoped it would? **

**Final-round voting for the Indie TwiFic Awards is scheduled to open tonight and run through Sunday (July 22 - July 26, 2009). Perchance to Dream is a finalist for the Best Collaboration award. For more information, please see ****www[dot]theindietwificawards[dot]com****. Thanks!**

**Songs for Chapter 28 **(It's "open the door day" on the playlist!)

92. Open Your Eyes, by Snow Patrol. For Edward trying to get Bella to see that the dreams are real.

93. Open the Door, by Otis Redding. For Edward sitting outside Bella's door and telling her in the dream to open the door.

94. Let My Love Open the Door, by Pearl Jam. Same as above.

95. Let Me In, by The Sensations. Because I came across it by accident and it was too cute to leave out.

**Listen to the playlist by visiting my profile or going to  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Huge thanks as ever to FantasyMother. Please drop by our thread on the Twilighted forum in the Alternate Universe section.  
www[dot]twilighted[dot]net/forum**

**More chapters on the way Thursday and Friday. Thanks for reading!**


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

* * *

Chapter 29

_**March 2010 **_

BPOV

"So . . . " I asked Edward excitedly, "could you see me when you were hunting?"

"Sometimes, yes," he acknowledged, "but not always. I saw you when I was hunting last night, though. That's when I finally knew the fantasies were real."

"Wow," I said, as another puzzle piece fell into place. "From the first weekend I moved to Forks six years ago, I dreamed of hunting. Those dreams were some of the most intense of all."

He nodded. "Early on, it felt like there was a presence, a sweet purity with me when I hunted. I didn't know it was you for a long time," he said. "Then recently I started seeing you dart around in the corners of my vision. And once, I thought I saw you clearly before you vanished altogether. But last night . . . " he smiled, "Last night you just walked right up to me, didn't you?"

"Yep." I grinned.

I let out a little hum of contentment, my mind drifting back into the past.

"What?" he asked, ever frustrated that he couldn't read my thoughts.

"I was just thinking of all those times in my dorm room at Cornell . . ." I mused, recalling the beautiful encounters with my dream lover. "It was really you all along."

"Guilty as charged."

"And the day I moved into this apartment and dreamed of making love to you on the floor . . . " I darted my eyes over to the place where it had happened, blushing a bit.

"Still me." He smiled.

"You know, I stopped dreaming about you . . . _like that _. . . after our first real date. Is that when you stopped fantasizing about me?"

"Yes," he agreed. "Being with you in reality, even just talking to you or holding your hand . . ." he pulled my hand into his, "it was just so much better than the fantasy, there was no comparison. I only fantasized about you when I thought it would be impossible to be in a real relationship with you. Of course, I had no idea my fantasies were projecting into your dreams." He shook his head. "But once I knew you in real life, it wouldn't have been right to continue. It would have felt as if I was . . . unfaithful to you."

"I know what you mean. I felt the same way about the dreams."

I smiled broadly at him. "We're pretty incredible together, don't you think?" I asked.

"Like I said," he winked, "guilty as charged."

I laughed, and he did, too.

It wasn't lost on either of us that it might be the last time we would have reason to laugh for a while.

It was early Monday morning, and we were scheduled to go back to the doctor at 9:00 a.m. to get my diagnosis. But we were both holding it at bay with everything we could. We had spent the whole of Sunday discovering and rediscovering our love, just marveling at how we had been connected for so long without even knowing it. We retreated into our own private cocoon, shutting out the world and every bad thing that might detract from our bliss.

But we both knew it couldn't last. As much as we reminisced and experienced the joy of reliving memories that we unwittingly shared, and as much as we caressed and kissed and pretended that everything was better than ever, we both knew we were quite possibly on borrowed time. The specter of my waiting diagnosis cast a heavy shadow.

It was the worst kind of irony: On the very day we felt closer and more bonded than ever, it might all be ripped from our hands.

* * *

Carlisle was already in Dr. Peterson's office when we arrived, and his expression was serious. He obviously knew what the neurologist was about to discuss with us. I was still surprised that Edward hadn't called or taken us to his house yesterday evening so that we could get an early answer from Carlisle, who had spent the better part of Sunday with Dr. Peterson going over my test results. But then again, Edward and I had been busy with our own revelations yesterday evening. And I think Edward wanted to prolong the weekend as long as possible.

But now that we were here, Edward locked eyes with Carlisle even as Dr. Peterson greeted us and asked us to have a seat. I knew Edward was reading Carlisle's thoughts, unwilling to wait for the longer explanation. Dr. Peterson waved us all over to a small conference table, and I saw Edward sink into a seat as Carlisle put a steadying hand on his shoulder. Scared, I looked at Edward just as he reached for my hand. When he looked at me, his eyes shined with sadness and longing.

_Shit. It's bad._

On the table, Dr. Peterson had a laptop connected to a large flat-screen monitor, which he had turned toward us so that we could see it. After we were all seated, he cleared his throat and started talking.

"Bella," he stated matter-of-factly, "you have a congenital condition called arteriovenous malformation, or AVM for short."

Edward let out a small moan. He may have immediately understood the ramifications of those three little letters, but I didn't.

"Most patients with AVM appear completely normal and asymptomatic until a sudden-onset event like the seizure you had," the doctor continued. "AVM is marked by abnormal connections between the arteries and veins. You can think of it basically like a tangle of spaghetti in your brain." He hit a few keys on the laptop and an image popped up on the screen. It was a picture of a brain — judging from the words "I. Swan" and my Social Security number in the bottom right corner, I was looking at_ my _brain as imaged in the PET scan. With one glance, I could see what the doctor meant. Deep in the tissue of my brain was a tangle of arteries and veins. It looked, frankly, like a knot of worms.

Dr. Peterson took out a pointer and tapped the screen right at the knotted cluster. "This concentration here is called the _nidus_, and it consists of abnormal blood vessels that are hybrids between true arteries and veins." Then he moved the pointer to two big vessels that wound their way through my brain in a tortuous route to the central cluster. "These are the arteries that feed blood to the nidus, and," — he moved the pointer again to two other very large vessels, similarly twisted and tortuous — "these are the veins that drain it."

_Okay_, I thought. The arteries and veins looked big, bigger than other veins on the image. _So, what does that mean?_ I looked at Edward and he was staring at the screen like it was the most terrifying thing he'd ever seen.

"AVM is a dangerous condition because the vessels are abnormal and unstable. The pressure, especially in these larger vessels," he tapped the screen for emphasis, "is very high. And that creates a risk of leaks and rupture."

Edward tried unsuccessfully to suppress a groan.

"Rupture?" I asked.

"Yes," Dr. Peterson continued. "If one of these large arteries were to rupture, it could cause a major brain hemorrhage, quite possibly fatal."

_He just said fatal, didn't he? Shit._

"The other risk is that the arteries may develop aneurysms that can rupture. And unfortunately," the doctor said, "we're seeing the start of an aneurysm right here." Again he put the pointer to the screen.

I glanced again at Edward. He had gone completely still, motionless as a statue.

"So this is what caused me to have a seizure?" I asked, even though it felt like I was stating the obvious.

"Yes," Dr. Peterson said. "In cases of unruptured AVMs, we sometimes see persistent headaches and also seizures. And indeed, that is what we saw in your case."

"You said _unruptured_ AVMs. What do you see in cases of _ruptured _AVMs?" I couldn't stop myself from asking.

He looked down at the table a moment before meeting my eyes again. Edward slumped back in his chair, obviously hearing the answer before the doctor gave it.

"In 10% of cases, the first rupture causes instant death. If the patient survives the first hemorrhage, the mortality rate is 30% with each rebleed. Aside from the mortality statistics, there is a 30-50% chance of permanent neurological impairment with each rupture — loss of speech, mobility, cognitive function, that kind of thing."

I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. _This was bad. This was really, really bad._

Still clinging to a semblance of rational thought, I asked, "What treatment is available? You can fix this, right?" I was a scientist by training. I had faith in modern medicine. Surely there was a cure. "Dr. Cullen?" I asked, looking to Edward's father.

"Bella," Carlisle began, as he squeezed Edward's shoulder and reached across the table to take my hand as well. "Your case is complex . . ."

"Dr. Peterson?" I implored, looking back to the neurologist.

"This is not news that I ever want to give," he said with a heavy sigh. "In the ideal case, we surgically remove the nidus, and meticulously identify and disconnect the arteries and veins that feed and drain it." He hesitated briefly, then said, "I'm sorry, Bella, but your AVM is inoperable." He pointed again at the screen. "It's situated too deeply in your brain and has become enmeshed with too much of your brain tissue. I am afraid we would do more harm than good if we tried to operate."

I heard a sharp crack and looked down to see that Edward had pulled the arm of his chair completely off. Carlisle leaned over and tried to repair it, while Dr. Peterson looked surprised. "I guess these chairs have seen better days," he chuckled uncomfortably.

"What other treatments are available, Dr. Peterson?" I asked, bringing the subject back to my diagnosis.

"I'm afraid that other courses of treatment are not instantaneous. In your case, I recommend that we begin radiation therapy immediately. However, I estimate that it will take two to three years of treatments to bring about the change we'd want to see, and during that time, your risk of rupture and rebleed remains high."

"And other options?"

"We could try to slow the blood flow in the arteries supporting your AVM by injecting a sort of vascular 'glue' that might get them to clot off and stop the flow of blood to the nidus. But unfortunately again, your AVM is not ideally situated for that therapy. And, even more unfortunately, in 5% of cases, the treatment causes fatal vessel rupture."

_God. This was awful._

I looked at the doctor and let out a cynical huff of air. "So basically, doctor, you're telling me that I'm a walking time bomb?"

"I wouldn't put it quite that way, Bella, but . . . I'm sorry, your prognosis is not good."

* * *

We stayed longer at the hospital. Carlisle took us down to the nuclear medicine department, where we set up appointments for my radiation. Next we met with hospital counselors about coping with the stress and grief of a serious medical condition. Then we stopped in the hospital administrative wing where we filled out all kinds of paperwork about payments and insurance. Throughout all of it, I was in a daze, and so was Edward. We were just going through the motions, wanting this not to be happening, wanting to go back to our blissful cocoon where the rest of the world couldn't touch us.

Finally it seemed there was nothing more for us to listen to, sign, fill out, or arrange at the hospital, and they told us we could leave. I don't even remember getting back in the car or the ride home. I just remember that I was _pissed — _more angry than I'd ever been in my life.

_Damn the fates to hell for doing this to me, just when I'd found happiness with Edward._ I had never been a proponent of violence of any kind, but I wanted to punch someone, break something, shoot off a gun . . . _something._ _Damn it. Damn it all._

And Edward. Only one word came close to describing his expression, and even that seemed not to do it justice. _Devastation _was what I saw when I looked at him. He looked hollow inside, like a shell of himself, with no trace of happiness left — in fact, he seemed devoid of any emotion at all.

Gradually the sharpness of my anger gave way to dullness, and by the time we got back to the apartment, I felt completely deflated. It was only a little past one o'clock on a Monday afternoon, but we both had missed enough of our regular schedules that there was no point in me going to campus or Edward going to the high school to finish out the day. Neither of us would have been able to concentrate if we had gone anyway. And yet I felt completely at a loss for what else to do.

Still, time continued on, even if my brain had decided to play Russian roulette with my life.

I wandered into the kitchen and, seeing the dishes leftover from breakfast, I started to wash them. _Let me just do this — this mundane task — because I don't know what else to do._ Like an automaton, I turned on the warm water, put the stopper in the drain, and squirted soap in the sink.

As I reached for the sponge I felt Edward come up behind me and lay a small kiss on my shoulder. "Let me," he whispered against my ear, as his hands traveled down my arms and covered the top of my own hands.

I didn't let go of the plate. Instead, like a puppet, I let Edward control my arms and hands. With his chest against my back and his arms cradling my shoulders, he gently led my hand in a circular motion while I held the sponge, our joined hands rubbing the plate clean. Slowly, wordlessly, we repeated the process with my coffee mug. Together we washed all the dishes using the same method, and by the time we were through, I was leaning my head back against his broad chest and quietly crying. He wrapped his arms around me, making his body my shelter from the storm, the only thing holding me upright.

I wasn't sure at which point my tears started, but all of my sorrow, anger and fear flowed through them, and they weren't about to stop now that I'd let the dam burst. I sobbed for everything — the pending loss of my life, the loss of our love, all the things that I wanted to do and would never have the chance to do.

For a long while, Edward just stood behind me and held me, rocking me slightly, letting me cry. I knew he was as upset as I was, but he was holding it in, trying to be strong. I'd never seen him so quiet. He'd spoken fewer than a handful of sentences since we got the diagnosis.

I wanted to go back to our blissful world where nothing could harm us, but now I wasn't sure we'd ever find it again.

Edward brought one of his arms across my chest and touched my shoulder, tenderly turning me around to face him. He leaned down and captured my mouth in a soft kiss. Wiping the tears from my face, he kissed my eyelids, my cheeks, my forehead, and again my mouth. Still crying, I clung to him, bringing my arms around his shoulders and burying my face in his neck as I sobbed. He didn't say anything, he just kissed my neck and reached down to wrap his arms around my waist. And then he hugged me and lifted my feet off the floor.

I felt like a ragdoll in his arms as he picked me up and carried me to the bedroom. "Bella," he said in against the skin of my neck. "Oh, my Bella." And I felt his chest heaving with sobs of his own.

He laid me on the bed and then lay down beside me, never breaking the physical connection of our touch. His arms, his chest, his hands were all that were keeping me together — I felt like I would come apart in a thousand pieces if he let me go.

We were on our sides, facing each other. I brought my face to his, needing to look in his eyes, to get out of my own head and lose myself in him. Staring into his gold irises, I felt an overwhelming urge to be closer to him, as close as I could get. Although I had been given a death sentence this morning, right now I was _alive_, and I wanted to affirm that fact with Edward. Touching my lips to his, I kissed him deeply, pouring all my love, all my sorrow, all my fear into this conduit between us. He matched the intensity of my kiss and brought one hand around my waist, the other to the back of my head, entangling his legs with mine. Neither of us closed our eyes — we kept our gazes locked on one another.

Reaching down, I started unbuttoning his shirt, pulling at it, wanting it off, unable to tolerate any barrier between us. One of his legs was between my thighs and I started moving against it. I was beyond conscious thought, I only wanted to lose myself in the sensation of his body, the gold of his eyes, the security of his love. I wanted him to envelop me, enter me, take me away from this devastating day, take me to a place where none of this was happening.

My hands had reached the last button of his shirt and I pulled it open, kissing a trail down his chin, his neck, his chest, tugging on his shirt until I had it halfway off of his shoulders. Throughout all of this, Edward had kissed me, held me, stroked my back, and let me do as I wished, but now he sat up and placed his hands on my wrists to stop me.

"Bella . . . " He said my name slowly, in a low voice that rumbled in his chest. Then he leaned in to breathe the skin of my neck, leaving a soft kiss there.

"I want you," he said directly against my ear, his cool breath making me shiver even as I felt him sob again. "I want you so much." He kissed behind my ear. "Always." He licked my earlobe. "No one but you. Ever." Kissed my neck.

"But I . . . I don't . . ." He choked on a sob. "You're so fragile . . ."

Heedless to his restraint, I twisted my wrists to get my hands free, and with a sigh he released the cage that his fingers had made. He let me pull his shirt all the way off and toss it away. "I need you, Edward. I need to feel you. To feel _us. _You aren't going to hurt me_._ This thing in my brain is beyond our control."

I pulled off my own shirt then, my bra with it. Pressing my bare chest to his, I felt my nipples harden in response to his touch, the nerve endings existing for him alone. "Please, Edward." I brought my face down to his neck and tasted him, then scraped my teeth against his marble skin. "I need to feel you."

He groaned and reached his arms around my waist, rolling me on my back. "I can't ever deny you, you know that." And he brought his mouth back to my neck, down my collarbones, to my breasts, while his hands traced a circuit from my hips to my shoulders, down my arms and up again. He was everywhere at once, the advantage of his vampire speed and reflexes never wasted, his love surrounding me like a sheath.

He reached down and removed the rest of my clothing and then his own, and came back up to pull me into his arms, the full length of our bodies pressing together, skin-to-skin. But just as I wrapped my arms around his back, he slipped from my embrace, dipping his head down and lowering himself so that his face was even with my hips. I dug my hands into his hair, feeling its texture between my fingers, as he nestled his shoulders between my legs, nudging them gently apart.

Against my inner thigh, he murmured, "Don't leave me, Bella. Ever." He kissed his way higher and I drew in a sharp breath when I felt his tongue on me.

"Edward," I moaned breathlessly. He dragged his hands up my body to my breasts, his arms holding me down while his mouth set me alight.

"I can't live without you," he said, echoing the exact words that were beating through my own thoughts like the rhythm of a drum.

And still I needed more. I pulled at his hair, needing him to come back up to me, wanting to feel his chest against my own, his arms around my back, the full union of our bodies. He understood my wordless request and granted it, raising himself up and encircling me in his arms.

He entered me carefully, and I clung to his shoulders, burying my face in his neck, breathing in the sun and honey that I couldn't survive without. He pushed deeply within me, no motion wasted, moving so slowly I ached for more. He moved not with restraint, but with reverence, savoring.

We clung to each other desperately, lovingly, sorrowfully, the weight of this bleak day pressing us closer together, never wanting to be apart.

He hid his face in the back of my neck, under the curtain of my hair. In a strained voice, he said, "Be with me, Bella. Be with me forever."

"Always, Edward. Always." His arms were a prison I never wanted to escape; his body a mooring from which I never wanted to be unanchored.

"Please, love . . . please let me . . . " His incomplete question hung in the air, but I was ready to grant him anything he asked.

"Yes, Edward. Yes." I called out as his body worked with mine to take us both back to that place that was ours and ours alone.

His voice became more urgent as the sensations between us grew more intense. "Let me take you. Please, love . . . Please let me."

"Yes, take me, Edward. I'm already yours." And I was. There was no part of me that did not belong to him.

"Please, love . . . " We were both close to the edge. All I could think was, _Yes. Yes, Edward, whatever you want._

"Please . . . " he said again. "Let me change you. Let me take you into this immortal life. Let me make you mine forever."

For the first time in our relationship, I felt the hardness of his teeth against the skin of my throat.

And as we reached our mutual climax, a cold trickle of venom dripped down the side of my neck.

EPOV

In all the years that I had known Bella, I had suffered the torturous burn of my lust for her blood and the sweet agony of my body's desire for her. The pleasure of her company had always come with the pain of my restraint. Yet nothing I had previously endured compared to the single-minded urge that I felt on the day we got her diagnosis. From the moment I plucked the letters A–V–M out of Carlisle's thoughts, I could concentrate on little besides taking Bella, biting her, consuming her, and condemning her to this damned existence with me.

I loved her. More than life, more than anything. I could not exist without her. Faced with the possibility of losing her forever, I would selfishly sink my teeth into her jugular and spread the poison of my venom through her veins.

I would do it in an instant.

**A/N:**

**Sorry about the cliffie (again!). We really are not trying to stress you out. Please hang in there with us. **

For more information about AVM, see www[dot]brain-aneurysm[dot]com/avm[dot]html

**And from the Department of Shameless Self-Promotion: ****Final-round voting for the Indie TwiFic Awards is open now and is scheduled to run through Sunday, July 26. Perchance to Dream is a finalist for the Best Collaboration award. To vote, please visit  
www . theindietwificawards . com/voteround2 . aspx**** Thanks!**

**Songs for Chapter 29 **(a long list today)

96. Back Back Train, by The Be Good Tanyas. Because Bella's got the blues so badly we don't even need to understand the lyrics.

97. Indefinable, by Essie Jain. This haunting song is for the ever-present threat of Bella's AVM, which could rupture at any time.

98. Paper Planes, by M.I.A. For Bella being so angry she wants to shoot off a gun, because of the lyric, "All I wanna do is *gunshot* *gunshot* *gunshot* " (Please know we're not promoting violence or handguns, it's just the right song for Bella's mood).

99. Straight to Hell, by the Clash. For Edward, who is in synch with Bella, so he gets the Clash song that M.I.A. sampled for Paper Planes. And because he feels like everything's gone straight to hell.

100. Lay It Down, by Spiritualized. For Edward helping Bella at the kitchen sink. He wants to take away all her burdens, but he doesn't know what to do except help her wash the dishes. Aw.

101. A Thousand Tiny Pieces, by The Be Good Tanyas. For Bella feeling like she'll come apart without Edward holding her together.

102. Please, by Pete Murray. For Edward begging Bella to let him convert her.

**Listen to the playlist by visiting my profile or going to  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Huge thanks as ever to FantasyMother. Please drop by our thread on the Twilighted forum in the Alternate Universe section. www[dot]twilighted[dot]net/forum**

**One more chapter this week — tomorrow. **


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

* * *

Chapter 30

**Preface: **So, we got some questions about the cliffhanger in Chapter 29. Here's what happened: At the end of the chapter, Edward had his teeth right on Bella's neck, with venom dripping, and he was begging her to let him bite her. But he didn't break her skin. After everything they've been through, Edward would not bite Bella without her saying yes first. In today's chapter, we find out what she said. :^)

_**Early April, 2010**_

BPOV

I sat at the table with my arms folded and my head down, eyes shut, listening to the sounds of Edward working in the kitchen. Just as he did every morning, Edward was making breakfast for me, humming a sweet tune while he continued to refine his cooking skills. This quiet moment of solitude was an opportunity for me to try to organize my thoughts — not that I felt crowded — but alone time had become scarce.

I rubbed my hand on my neck, thinking about the venom Edward had dripped there on that awful day of my diagnosis. I knew what he needed, I knew what he wanted to do right then, but I had to tell him no . . . not yet. I needed time to make a decision, and I couldn't allow either of us to make that choice in the emotional state we were in. Both of us had to think of all the ramifications, regardless of which way I went.

Idly scratching my thumbnail along an imperfection on the table top, I found myself admiring the beauty in the grain of the wood. This wood had once been part of a living tree, and in its death it found a new use and a new kind of beauty. That concept tugged at me but I couldn't find the will to change the direction of my thoughts as I continued to focus on the crossroads at which I was standing.

I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. It was time to admit a few things to myself. As much as I tried to rationalize otherwise, as much as I tried to apply everything I had learned in a half-dozen philosophy courses, I was frightened. Death was coming for me at the age of 23, and it was coming at any time, any place, with no warning. I didn't have decades, I didn't have years. It could be months, it could be weeks, it could be the next minute.

_Damn_, I thought, as tears gathered once again in the corners of my eyes. I was so tired of crying, but I was scared to pieces.

"Western omelet, wheat toast, and orange juice." I quickly sat up as Edward strolled in, placing the food on the table. In a ridiculously short time he had become a fabulous cook, and I was the sole beneficiary of his culinary talents. I smiled at how proud he was, but the smile didn't reach my eyes, and his steps faltered when he saw my unshed tears.

"Talk to me, love," he sat next to me, rubbing my back softly, trying to soothe me. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, knowing there was nothing he could say that would help. I picked up my fork and poked at the food, not at all hungry, but not wanting to hurt his feelings. I felt lost, adrift.

I had been trying to live in the moment and enjoy each and every aspect of my humanity while I pondered the biggest decision I would ever make — whether to choose life without end, immortal existence. I might have been dying, but the choice of becoming a vampire was something I refused to rush. Yet as time went on, my deliberations were giving way to denial. As illogical as it was, deep down I must have thought if I made believe everything was fine, we could continue our lives together until, well, something happened. Inaction was just so much easier than action.

As much as I had been trying, _we_ had been trying, how does one keep putting forth the energy to live in the moment when any moment can be your last? The weight of what was to come was crushing me, and I didn't know how to handle it any longer.

I looked up and into Edward's beautiful eyes, those eyes that captured my attention from the moment I saw him standing in that school parking lot. My own started burning as I silently gazed at him — my vision blurry through a cascade of tears. He reached over and pulled me close, holding me, not saying a word.

"It's not enough Edward, none of it is enough," I mumbled into his chest as his arms tightened around me. "I've lived most of my life as a hermit, lost in school and books and dreams, ignoring what else the world had to offer." I tried to calm my breathing. If I couldn't stop the tears I at least wanted to remain lucid, my words clear. I had to talk about this; I couldn't hold it in any longer.

"I've lived more in the few short months we've been together than in all the years that preceded them. I've seen more, done more, felt more . . . and I can't resolve myself to just living in the moment now." I leaned back and looked at him. I had vowed I would take every opportunity, in the brief time I had left, to appreciate what I had — his handsome face, his beautiful soul, his piercing intelligence, his quick wit. My chest ached when I thought of all I was about to lose — my life, our future, this man. It was hard to breathe, despair seeping into my bones as it took all of my strength to fill my lungs enough to say the next few words.

"I don't want to die."

Edward tightened his arms around me, and I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling his cool breath caress my skin, feeling the chill of his skin through his shirt as he folded me into his embrace. I gave in to my exhaustion, and as I let go of my thoughts I saw the connection my mind was grasping for earlier when I was looking at he wood surface of the table. It was beautiful when dead, it was transformed in a manner that gave it a new purpose — no less useful than when it was alive — and perhaps even more so.

My thoughts were suddenly clear, the blinders were off and I knew I had been a fool.

"Tell me about it, tell me _all_ about it," I barely spoke at a whisper, but I knew he heard me and I knew he understood what I wanted. Not breaking his hold around me Edward picked me up and gently brought me into the living room, sat on the couch and placed me on his lap. He looked at me, but I could feel his attention drawn inward — cataloguing all the pieces of information I'd need, making sure he omitted nothing.

"The change takes approximately three days." I could hear the tremor in his voice as he tried to speak calmly. "You will be conscious, and I won't lie to you, the pain will be excruciating. It will feel like your body is burning as the venom moves through you, recombining your DNA, changing you physically inside and out. As it's reforming your body, it will heal both major and minor defects." He looked at me meaningfully, making sure I was taking it all in — the very good with the very bad.

"My AVM?" I asked.

"Will be healed."

I let out a breath and nodded for him to continue.

"Your appearance will change. You will still look like yourself, but different enough that you won't be able to allow those that knew you to see you again. At first your eyes will be bright red but the color will fade to burgundy as your body absorbs your own blood, and then within a year they should change to amber as your diet of animal blood replaces all the human blood remaining in your system." He took a deep breath, trying to sound impassive, as he continued.

"You'll have difficulty remembering certain aspects of your human life, but with concentration you should be able to retain most of the memories. Your changed brain will be multi-tiered, with large volumes for storage and immediate recall. Emotionally, well . . . all emotions will be stronger and will be one of the most difficult aspects of the change for you to learn to control — but you will — it'll just take time and practice. You'll be prone to sensory overload as you get used to your heightened senses, which will add to the emotional difficulties."

Edward recited all of this as if reading from a book, speaking in an even tone. I knew how difficult this was for him, and I knew he felt he had to give me the facts in the most impartial way he could. Even though he had begged me to convert the day we got my diagnosis, later he made it very clear that the decision would always be mine. Only mine.

"Tell me about the bloodlust."

"If this is what you want, we'll move to an isolated location for at least a year — perhaps longer. I'll teach you how to hunt animals and will do everything I can to keep you from encountering humans. After a few months I'll find articles of used clothing to introduce you to human scent. Once you feel you can control exposure to the scent we'll start making short trips out, within the confines of the car. It will be baby steps, but it's the only way to desensitize you."

I nodded against his shoulder, trying to imagine what life would be like as a different species. I knew there was no way I could fully anticipate it all, but there was one last question I had — and in many ways it was the most important of all. It was certainly the most frightening.

I sat up and looked at him.

"Edward, are you sure you want to be with me forever?" His eyes grew wide, and before he could answer I placed my finger on his lips.

"I need an honest answer, not one you think I want to hear. We're talking about the potential of eternal life, and I need to know if this is lust, or a diversion. I need to know, with all honesty and no consideration of my feelings, how true this is to you — if it's as long-term as the years we might have in front of us." I lowered my eyes, afraid to look at him. Even more, I was afraid of his answer. I choked back a sob as I realized I was more afraid of what he was about to say next than I was of death.

He was quiet for a long time. I could feel my heart start to pound and my hands start to sweat when he took one arm from around me and dug his hand into his pocket. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and braced myself.

His remaining arm tightened around me while he pulled his hand out of his pocket, holding something gently in his fist. He took my hand and slowly slid something cold onto my finger. Bracing myself, I opened my eyes and looked.

It was a ring. It was lovely, filigreed gold and scattered diamonds, obviously antique. I ran my fingers over it, feeling the hard, faceted diamonds, the smooth band, wondering if it was real or if I was imagining it.

"I wanted to do this the right way. I wanted to get down on my knee and offer my life to you." He spoke softly as I looked down, unable to meet his gaze. My fingers kept caressing the ring.

"But I know now I had it backwards. Instead I'd like to ask you to offer your life to me, and I will work until the end of time ensuring you'll never have a moment to regret it. I love you Bella. Those three words don't encompass all you mean to me, so I would like to spend eternity showing you. From the moment I saw you in that classroom six years ago you have been, and always will be, my life." He paused for a moment, and I heard him draw in a huge breath.

"Will you marry me? Will you be my mate?"

I finally looked up, and his eyes were full of love and longing. I brought my hand to his face, running my finger across his strong jaw. I loved this man, and I knew I loved him so thoroughly, so completely, that the promise of spending eternity at his side was a blessing beyond anything I could dream. I placed a soft kiss on his beautiful lips.

"Yes, Edward," I whispered against his lips. "Yes, to both, with all my heart."

He groaned and crushed his lips against mine as my emotions soared into a whirlwind — the dam cracking, the fear and loss sluicing away, offering me rebirth, the eternal cleansing of my body, the promise of renewal. All of my self-control ruptured as I sobbed and his breath started to hitch — my tears soaking his cheeks. For the first time in all those lonely years since 1918, Edward had tears on his face. And in the most joyous moment of both our lives we held onto each other for dear life, and wept.

* * *

EPOV

From the first moment I saw Bella I knew I had never in all my years seen a woman as beautiful. Her rich mahogany hair fell in waves to her waist; her alabaster skin was flawless — almost translucent. Her huge brown eyes with their thick lashes drew me — pulling me into the universe of her soul. The depths of her mind, her quick wit, and her overwhelming compassion humbled me. There were no words to describe how I felt about this woman — to call her my soul mate is an honor.

And in spite of all this, she would be the death of me.

These were the thoughts consuming me as we drove up the twisting dirt road to Carlisle and Esme's house. It was no longer my home — my home was wherever Bella was. And soon, our home would be a restored cottage deep in the heart of the mountains, about 50 miles from here. Lost in the woods, no trails for miles, well posted and with motion-activated cameras set in hidden spots transmitting back to the cottage, giving us immediate warning of any intrusion into our solitude. If we were lucky, the cameras would only capture wildlife — and if they were lucky, humans would never come close.

All was ready, had been ready. Because my time was completely occupied, Esme had generously volunteered to handle the restoration and decoration of the cottage. She'd stocked it with an expansive library and hundreds of DVDs of the best of both classic and modern film. All was ready, but Bella was not.

It had been three weeks since her decision to accept my proposal of marriage and to accept being changed. It was her choice alone, and she accepted both wholeheartedly — of that I had no doubt. What I didn't expect was her driving need to wrap up the threads of her human life before moving on to an immortal one.

I tried to clear my head as I stopped the car in front of the porch and got out, opening Bella's door and offering a hand. In the diffuse light filtering through the forest canopy she appeared a bit more pale than usual, and I wasn't sure if I should be concerned or if she was simply nervous about spending some time with Carlisle and Esme.

For the fifth time that day, I patted my back pocket to make sure the two syringes filled with my venom were still there. For the twentieth time that day I pulled together all the self-control I could muster to stop my hands from shaking. To stop the burning deep in my chest, to stop the squeeze of panic, to stop the feeling each second was borrowed time and at any moment I might lose the woman who defined my life. I looked down at her, and couldn't stop the overwhelming urge to touch her, hold her, to use her very presence to try to ease my pain.

"Bella," I whispered, pulling her to me before we went up to the porch. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her softly, pressing her to my chest and resting my chin on top of her head. I closed my eyes and breathed in her wonderful scent, the strawberries and freesia that I hoped would follow her to the other side — while at the same time not caring. All I wanted was Bella.

She looked up at me and smiled. "Come on Edward, let's get this over with. You go hunt while they babysit me." She couldn't hide her snort at the humiliating thought. "The delay is only making me more tense."

I chuckled at her absurdity. "Bella you're being silly, you know both of them, and they're not really babysitting . . ."

"Yeah, well, I know them professionally, not socially. And making sure your future in-laws like you takes on a whole new meaning when they're vampires." She grinned and grabbed my hand and tried to drag me up the porch steps.

Carlisle opened the door before we had a chance to knock, and with a bright smile at Bella invited us inside. He led us into the living room while I watched the subtle signs of him assessing her physical condition — listening to the sounds of her heart, respiration, noting the flair of his nostrils as he was trying to catch any scent that might be off. He glanced over at me and with a smile and a nod silently assured me all was fine. At the moment, anyway.

Esme waited for us, and appeared as nervous as I'm sure Bella felt. I put my arm around Bella and bent down to whisper.

"I'll be right back, love. Have a seat and I won't be gone more than a minute." I turned to Carlisle and motioned him towards the kitchen, grabbing the syringes from my pocket as I walked. As soon as we got there I laid them on the counter, pointing to them.

"The one with the smaller needle is for her carotid artery at the first sign of a hemorrhage."

"Edward, I'm a practicing physician, I think I know . . ."

"No, Carlisle, you don't know!" I interrupted him, and for once didn't care that I sounded rude. "I've been living with this day in and day out so please, let me just say what I have to say. Okay?" I glared at him, pleading with my eyes.

_Okay, Edward. It's going to be all right,_ he thought at me, shocked at my outburst. It took every bit of control I had to keep from shouting a string of expletives. I was reaching the limit of my patience.

"The other syringe is for her heart." I refused to look into his eyes again, I just needed to do this, hunt, and get back to her side. Just the thought of twenty minutes away from her was starting to drive me into a panic.

"Start with the carotid artery, as close to her ear as you can manage. Then follow with the other directly into her heart. Get the venom into her as quickly as possible." I turned around and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Carlisle staring after me, knowing I was acting out-of-character and no longer caring. I just needed to give her a kiss, feed, and get back to her. I was starting to rattle apart.

Bella was perched on the edge of the sofa, looking anxious and uncomfortable, and that only added to my growing tension. I bent down and gave her a quick kiss.

"I'll be back as quickly as I can." I gazed into her eyes, fighting the fear I wouldn't see her alive again. "I love you, Bella." I turned and ran from the room, out of the house, through the trees. I ran, breathing deeply, searching out the closest game.

This had been building in me for the last three weeks. The fear was shredding my sanity — the constant anxiety — remaining alert every moment in case the time bomb in her head exploded. And I had to do everything I could to keep Bella from seeing just how frightened I truly was.

She needed to bring closure to her life, and I would not deny her that opportunity. When she said she wanted four weeks to prepare, I knew two of those weeks were for finishing her classes. After all the work she had put into her grades, she didn't want to walk away from them. We agreed I would withdraw from the rest of the high school term and get permission to audit her classes with her. I worked with her in the lab. We shopped together, we showered together, and with the exception of the few human moments each day when she demanded privacy, I never left her side.

We made love, because I would not allow her even a moment's opportunity to think I didn't want her — but we did so quietly, carefully, and with my finger on a pulse point at all times, monitoring her blood pressure.

We packed and moved those things she didn't want to leave behind — always carefully deciding what needed to stay so suspicion wasn't aroused. As far as I could see all was ready, but there was still one more week left in the agreed-upon timeframe.

A spasm of terror suddenly washed through me as I dropped to the ground and bent my head, hands in my hair as I tried to control another panic attack. I couldn't hear her heartbeat from here — and not knowing if she was alive or dead at this very moment caused rippling pains to shoot through my chest. I couldn't take any more, I couldn't wait another week. I had no endurance left, no more ability to pretend. Since we learned of her diagnosis I've been shaking apart awaiting her death. Since the moment she agreed to undergo the change, the outrageous hope I felt was constantly tempered with terror. I felt as if I was about to explode into a million pieces, or implode into myself — lose myself in fear and I'd never find a way to crawl back out.

Struggling to my feet I took a deep breath, and tried to focus. I had to put an end to this madness. I would grab a deer — hopefully a large buck — and head back. And I would do everything I could to beg Bella to allow me to change her now. Right now. I would get down on my knees if necessary, and plead with her to make it today.

BPOV

Carlisle and Edward had just left the living room, and it struck me as a good opportunity to seek out the bathroom — it had been a long drive.

"Esme, I'm just going to the washroom for a moment, I'll be right back." She smiled and nodded, and I shuffled off to the downstairs bathroom. Like the rest of the house, it looked to be lifted off the pages of Architectural Digest — everything absolutely perfect, understated yet elegant. Washing my hands I smiled to myself, realizing I was the only person who ever used the bathrooms — they probably needed to be dusted rather than cleaned. When I opened the door to leave I noticed a mirror to the side of the vanity that was new, clearly antique with an elaborate gilt frame. I stopped for a moment to examine the intricate scrollwork when something in the mirror's reflection caught my eye — making me freeze, my heart stop, my chest squeeze in pain.

It was Edward in the kitchen, talking to Carlisle. In that brief moment the reflection showed me an Edward I didn't know existed. His face was contorted in anguish, his chest moved rapidly, his breathing out of control. His eyes were squeezed shut and he looked as if he were literally burning, caught in excruciating pain as Carlisle gave him a sympathetic look. But my eyes were only for Edward, captured in that unguarded moment. He slowly turned and walked away, his shoulders straightening as he took a deep breath.

Stunned, I slipped back into the living room, back onto the sofa before he walked in. Gone was the look of anguish as he kissed me gently, told me he'd be back within twenty minutes and ran out the front door.

_What the hell did I just witness?_

I tried to mask my distraction as Carlisle strolled into the living room, carrying a tray containing a steaming tea cup, creamer, and sugar bowl. I thanked him, trying to pay attention to him and my screaming thoughts at the same time. Trying to remain polite, I perched on the edge of the sofa with the fragile teacup in my hand, struggling to keep myself from shaking, knowing I was likely to either spill tea on the precious oriental carpet or drop the priceless teacup, shattering it.

_What was wrong with Edward?_

"Bella, I'm so glad I finally had the opportunity to use this tea set. It's antique Bavarian Roses, so beautiful and so hard to find — and so much nicer when I can actually use it." Esme beamed at me. My hands just shook more.

_Why did he look like that, why was he in so much pain?_

"It's lovely Esme, and thank you for the tea." I carefully placed the cup and saucer on the coffee table, breathing a sigh of relief that I managed to get my hands off them without disaster. I sat back, afraid to lock eyes with the two people sitting side by side on the couch across from me, who seemed just as hesitant to lock eyes with me. I looked down and absently played with my ring.

_Should I ask Carlisle? Would he tell me the truth? Is Esme a better source?_

I needed to say something, anything.

"Mrs. Cullen, I . . ." she spoke the same time I did.

"Bella . . ." and we both laughed.

"You first," I offered.

"Please don't call me Mrs. Cullen, I'm Esme." She smiled widely. "And I'd like to welcome you to the family," she glanced at my hand and smiled again.

I tried to smile in return, feeling torn, needing to make conversation with her while my mind was racing, trying to figure out what he had been hiding from me, the sheer agony I witnessed tying my stomach into knots.

"So, Bella, how are things going? Edward says you are wrapping up your work at the university? " She looked about as uncomfortable as I was, and it was not helping to relieve my own tension.

"Yes, I've been finishing out the semester, concluding my work at the lab . . ."

_I've never seen Edward like that, ever. What could have caused it?_

I was still lost in my thoughts when I realized Esme was staring at me, looking like she was waiting for an answer to something. _Shit_.

"Excuse me, Esme, did you say something?" I tried to pay attention to her but my mind kept wandering back to that unbearably painful expression on his face, and the awful knot that squeezed more every time I thought of it.

"I said," she fidgeted a bit, taking me by surprise. _Was something wrong with her, too?_ "Are all of your exams over now?"

"Yes, all my classes are done, finals are done, and my lab work is done." I smiled briefly, still wondering what was wrong.

"So, are you packing up your apartment now? I would be happy to help if you'd like."

"No, thank you, I'm pretty much finished with everything." She gave me an odd look. What was her problem? _Could it be related to whatever was wrong with Edward?_ Our conversation seemed trivial, what could be bothering her? School, finals, lab, apartment . . .what could it . . . _oh my god __. . ._

It hit me like a sledgehammer and I gasped as it all became clear. How much had he hidden from me? How frightened had he been all these weeks? It all came crashing down on me as I relived seeing that look on his face and replayed Esme's words. He was desperately afraid I'd die before I was changed, and like a fool I created a timetable and stuck to it as if I was organizing my weekly food shopping. I groaned, realizing what an idiot I had been.

I glanced over at Carlisle, and was surprised by the expression on his face. His brow was furrowed, and he was looking at me oddly.

"Bella, what's wrong? Do you feel all right?"

I realized everything I had been thinking probably flashed across my face for both of them to see. I took a deep breath and tried smiling at them both.

"It's nothing, I'm sorry. I'm fine."

Esme and Carlisle both stared at me, but before anyone could say a word I rushed to my feet.

"If you'll excuse me, I need a moment of fresh air," I muttered as I half ran out the front door and onto the porch.

I needed to get away from them — I needed a moment to think. Sitting down on the porch swing I put my head in my hands and thought of Edward, and of all we had been through since the diagnosis and my decision to be changed. _Had I had been so wrapped up in my own fears, in my need to grant myself closure that I ignored what this was doing to him?_ Closing my eyes I thought back to the last few weeks — the constant tension in his face, the hovering, the smiles that tried to light up his eyes but the worry that was never gone. The more I thought about it I realized _worry _wasn't the right word. Edward was afraid, at least as frightened as I was, and while wrapped up in my own needs I had failed to see he was terrified of losing me before he had the opportunity to make me immortal.

_Oh, my poor Edward_. _What have I done to you when we've both gone through so much already?_ Everything I said to Esme was true — I was done with classes, what I needed was packed and moved — I had planned to leave everything else for my parents. I shuddered briefly, refusing to let my thoughts go in that direction.

I lifted my head and gazed out into the dense forest. We had already agreed Edward would change me here at Carlisle and Esme's home, with Carlisle in attendance in case he lost control — Edward's fear, not mine. Then he'd move me to our new home while the venom was coursing through me. A silly request at best, inconvenient for Edward at worst, but I desperately wanted to awaken in our cottage — with just Edward at my side.

I thought about what awaited me back at my apartment, and realized there was nothing more to be done. It was no longer my home, my home was with Edward in a cottage in the mountains. Home was where we'd start our new life. Home was beckoning, a new existence where fear had no place. Home was wherever he was, and it was time to begin our journey.

I sat up and relaxed a bit, waiting for his return. He'd be well-fed, the perfect time.

_Today was the day._

**A/N:**

**Major thanks to everyone who has read, alerted, favorited and reviewed thus far. ****We're getting near the end of the story now. Next week there will be one more chapter and an epilogue. **

**More from the Department of Shameless Self-Promotion:  
****Final-round voting for the Indie TwiFic Awards is open now and has been extended to run through Wednesday, July 29 at midnight Eastern time. Perchance to Dream is a finalist for the Best Collaboration award. To vote, please visit  
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**Songs for Chapter 30 **

103. Death Came and Got Me, by Rosie Thomas. For Bella at the kitchen table, lamenting that death has come for her at 23.

104. Grace, by Kate Havnevik. For Bella's grief at the loss of her life, and for the lyrics, "Nothing is like it was. Turn my grief to grace."

105. I Let Myself Fall, by Rosie Thomas. For Bella accepting Edward's proposal.

106. These Days, by St. Vincent. For Bella finally deciding that there's no need to wait any longer.

**Listen to the playlist by visiting my profile or going to  
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**Huge thanks as ever to FantasyMother. Please drop by our thread on the Twilighted forum in the Alternate Universe section. www[dot]twilighted[dot]net/forum**


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

* * *

Chapter 31

_**Early April, 2010**_

EPOV

I slowed my pace as I approached the house. Down to a walk, I tried to formulate how I was going to present my case to Bella. I might beg her, but I wouldn't force her. It was her decision. Yet I was desperately afraid she would still want to wait until the pre-arranged date for her conversion, leaving me with the torment of counting her every heartbeat, her every breath, in a constant state of vigilance for the next week because any second might be her last.

When I got close enough to hear her heartbeat my tension eased slightly, and I reduced my pace even further. Shuffling at this point, I was looking down at my feet, still thinking of how I could persuade her, when the wind shifted and the strong scent of freesias and Bella's intoxicating blood hit me. Looking up, I found a vision of beauty gazing back at me. In all my frantic scenarios, in all my planning, I did not expect this. Bella was sitting on the porch, eyes fixed on me, with a smile so breathtaking I thought the heavens had opened and swallowed me whole.

I froze, overwhelmed by what I was seeing. I hadn't seen her smile like that in what felt like forever, and it made every part of my body yearn for her, drawing me towards my angel, my savior, the woman who was me, a part of me, the essential part of me. I was frozen in time, but Bella wasn't. She stood up gracefully, stepped down off the porch and walked to me, still smiling, her gorgeous eyes wide and clear, never breaking from my gaze.

She stopped in front of me and reached up, tenderly stroking her small, soft hand across my cheek, and then placed the sweetest and most gentle kiss on my lips. All thought left my head, nothing existed but Bella, her eyes glistening and loving as she wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her body against me — touching my lips with hers again, firmer but still soft. A breathy moan escaped us both as I brought my arms around her, nibbling with my lips, teasing her mouth, breathing in her scent, losing myself in her, not needing to rush, not needing to crush her to me. I simply needed to feel her against me, her body alive and the love in her touch and the warmth of her eyes and the connection of her soul with mine.

She snuggled into my chest and sighed, sounding happy and satisfied, tightening her grip around my neck briefly before leaning back to look at me.

"Love, we need to talk." I said seriously, even as she smiled again. She looked so calm, as relaxed as I'd ever seen her. She reached up and placed a quick peck on my lips before pulling back and grabbing my hand.

"Okay, let's sit, because I'd like to talk to you, too." She looked like she had just been relieved of a great and heavy burden, whereas I felt ready to succumb to the weight of mine.

Still holding hands, we sat side by side on the porch swing. It struck me again how right we were for each other, regardless of time or era or age. Here in this swing, on the porch of this Victorian house, we could have just as easily been a betrothed couple in 1918 as 2010.

"How was your hunt? Are you feeling full?" She looked encouragingly at me. I couldn't help but smile back, still confused but trying to be patient. _What was going on? What had changed?_

"I'm fine," I confirmed. "Actually, I'm much better now that I am back by your side. I don't like being apart from you, even to hunt." I drew her close and kissed the top of her head.

"Nor I, you." She reached up and stroked my hair, placing a kiss on my temple. "Sometimes I think I don't tell you enough, but you are my life, Edward. Nothing has meaning without you."

Tilting her head back she looked at the sky. "The weather is supposed to be clear today. It strikes me as a good day for us to take a long walk in the woods . . . maybe to our cottage." She lowered her head and turned to me, eyes sparkling.

"Our cottage? Bella, that's more than 50 miles from here. You couldn't walk that distance— "

_Wait a second._

"Bella . . ." I faltered.

"Tell me, Edward."

I took a deep breath, and willed myself to say it.

"I can't go on like this much longer. I am not strong enough to stand by when you could be taken from me at any moment. I can't bear it . . . it's too much . . ."

She quieted me with a kiss on the lips. "Hey," she said softly, "come here." She snuggled in closer, then looked me directly in the eye.

"If I asked you to do the conversion right now, would you do it?"

"Bella, I've been ready to change you since the minute we got your diagnosis."

"I know, and I'm sorry. And I am so grateful to you for being patient with me while I came to terms with everything on my own timetable." She stroked my cheek again. "But I don't want to wait anymore."

She breathed against my lips and touched her forehead to mine. "I'm ready, Edward. Today. Right now."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

A tremor of relief rolled through me as I felt the greatest weight lifting off of my shoulders with each word Bella had spoken. I pulled her into my embrace. Finally, finally it would be over. Today. All of the pent up tension released, shuddering through my body, as Bella held me, running her hands over my back, soothing me, comforting me, whispering words of love and regret and . . . _oh, how I love this woman_.

Collecting myself, I stood, bringing her to her feet with me. I wrapped an arm around her waist, and we walked towards the front door.

It was time to go over the final details with Carlisle.

* * *

Miscellaneous papers were spread across Carlisle's desk as he gathered and organized them for Bella to review. His office had rich teak walls, buttery leather furniture and the distinctive scent of old books. It was a pleasant place for going over unpleasant details.

"I have your Living Directive, and the Death Certificate is ready for my signature and date. I just need the name of the attorney holding your will. I'll pass the attorney's name to your parents when I meet them to give them the urn."

I glanced over at Bella, concerned that she might be upset by our frank discussion of terminating her human existence. But instead I was surprised to see a calm, determined expression on her lovely face. Once again I marveled at the strength in this petite woman.

"Officially, your cause of death will be documented as a brain hemorrhage associated with your AVM. I will report that you had your fatal episode here, and its severity was such that your passing was instantaneous and painless. I'll sign the death certificate, and then we will forge the paperwork from a fictitious funeral home. I will explain to your parents that you made all arrangements once you learned of your illness, and that the funeral home picked you up from here and cremated you per your instructions. There will be no autopsy — my standing in the medical community coupled with your history of AVM will eliminate any suspicion about your death."

He glanced over at me, and then at Bella. "So, we are all set on that front. Any questions?"

"No. Thank you for thinking of all of these details, Carlisle. I'm not sure I could have done it so seamlessly."

"Well," Carlisle demurred, "as with many things, practice makes perfect. This is a road we've been down before." As always, Carlisle spoke without exaggeration, and when he looked at me, I nodded in agreement. He turned back to Bella, and I could hear the sincerity of his thoughts as he told her, "I'm very glad that I could help, and I'm delighted to pave the way for you to join our family. It's the least I can do. Now, do you have any questions about the change itself, Bella? Any concerns at all?"

Bella looked over at me, and once again that magnificent smile adorned her face. "No, Edward has explained it to me more than once. I think I know what to expect. I'm ready."

I exhaled a shaky breath when she said those words. Putting one of her hands on my arm, Bella repeated in a voice so clear it rang with conviction, "I'm ready. This is my choice. This is what I want."

* * *

We quietly walked together up the stairs to my old room. A bed was waiting for us — purchased for this occasion but intended for our use in the future, as well. For now, however, it was a shrine to this event.

"Carlisle is just outside the door," I whispered to her, the gravity of this moment beginning to take hold. I could feel a tidal wave of guilt slowly building, fueled by my remorse for damning her to a life like mine. From this day forward, she would be eternally dependent on blood and death, her very soul in jeopardy. Self-doubt crept in as I wondered whether I unduly influenced her in my selfishness. Every fear, every ounce of self-hatred that dwelled in me over the decades before I met Bella flooded my mind. Suddenly, I couldn't look at her. The consequences of what we were about to do were overwhelming me, my muscles started to lock and, just as I felt I was going to lose all control of my faculties, a warm and soft hand touched my shoulder.

"Edward, I'm here. Come back to me, my love. This is what I want. Never, ever doubt that." She reached up, running her fingers through my hair.

A gust of air left my lungs, and I focused on Bella's touch, her caress, her love. I opened myself up and concentrated on our connection, our gravitational pull towards each other, and more than anything else, to our infinite love. I dropped my face onto her forearm, and she stroked the back of my head with her other hand, soothing me, grounding me, assuring me.

I gently broke away, and sliding one arm around her back and the other under her knees, I picked her up and carried her towards the bed. Putting her down in the center of the bed I crawled in next to her and gathered her into my arms. Side by side, her breath warm against my neck, my breath cool against hers.

The moment had come, the moment I wanted and the moment I didn't. I held her tightly against me, afraid to act, yet afraid not to act. A part of me understood we were losing precious time — she was still in immediate danger. Yet a part of me wanted to savor the warm body pressed against mine, wanted to take a moment to say goodbye to what was, before I greeted what was to be.

"I love you, Bella. I love you beyond words. I will always be at your side, I will always be yours." I breathed deeply, fixing her scent into my memory. The smell of freesias, the hint of strawberries, and the intoxicating bouquet of her blood. I committed the pounding of her heartbeat to memory, the soft pliability of her skin, the heat of her touch. I drank it all in as I listened to the soft chimes of the evening . . .

_Chimes?_

Searching, my eyes were drawn to the corner of the room, where there was a light, pulsating like a beating heart, radiating heat and energy, beautifully chiming in a rhythmic beat. With the advantage of my keen eyesight, I could detect its barely defined, amorphous shape, a void in the atmosphere.

I had seen it once before in this very room. It had brought me to Bella on that painful night not so very long ago.

Suddenly the light flared, and I felt a rush of love and warmth, its rainbow hues bathing us both as we basked in the soul-comforting sound of the softly ringing chimes. Although it did not speak to me this time, I could feel its purpose — and it wasn't to instruct, or chastise, to push, or even to guide. This time its purpose was to approve, to condone, to _bless_. Bella turned toward it and we both stared into the pulsating void as it shined brightly and radiated unfiltered joy directly at us. When Bella returned her gaze to mine, she wore the most beatific smile I had ever seen.

"Now, Edward. Make me yours."

I kissed her warm lips, and gently moved across her cheek, to her ear. "I am yours, love. I always have been." My lips moved to just below her ear, kissing, nibbling, licking the sweet nectar of her skin. I could feel her blood pulsing under my mouth — steady and regular, calm and waiting. Bella moved her head slightly and kissed my own neck.

"I love you Edward, I will love you forever."

They were the words I needed to hear, my absolution as I took her, making Bella mine for all eternity as I slowly sank my teeth below her ear and relished my last taste of her blood. Ah, just enough, just a taste as I pulled in blood while I pushed out venom. Just a taste as I felt her body stiffen and her heart go wild. One more taste as I let the last six years wash over me, memories cascading over memories of real and fantasy as I knew there was no line between the two. My love for her flooded me as I withdrew my teeth and licked her wound closed. My love for her beat in my chest as I gently pierced each wrist and each ankle, knowing I would always remember the taste of her humanity as I sealed each wound.

Then I rose from the bed, removed my shirt, and with one last glance at the pulsing light I lifted my trembling Bella into my arms, and cradling her to my chest, walked out of my room. I paused briefly while Carlisle assessed and silently confirmed that she was all right, the process was working as it should. I carried her out of the house and into the woods. The sun shone down on us as I ran through the trees, my skin sparkling and fading, throwing light over us and then dousing that light as the trees closed above us. The forest was rich, green, full of scent and life as I ran with Bella, protectively holding her against me, hoping my cold skin would ease her burning, as I delivered us both into our future.

And, not for the first time in our relationship, I felt that we were embarking upon a destiny that had long been in the making.

**A/N:**

**It's not a cliffhanger this time, she's really going to be a vampire. Thanks for sticking with us all the way through to this point. :^)**

**And, just in case we haven't hit you over the head with it enough:  
Final-round voting for the Indie TwiFic Awards is open now and is scheduled to run through Wednesday, July 29. Perchance to Dream is a finalist for the Best Collaboration award. To vote, please visit  
**www . theindietwificawards . com/voteround2 . aspx** Thanks!**

**Songs for Chapter 31 **

107. You Are the Best Thing, by Ray LaMontagne. For Edward returning from his hunt to find Bella waiting for him on the porch, and his elation that she's finally ready.

108. Die (Stolen Houses), by Iron & Wine. For Carlisle and Edward unflinchingly looking Bella in the eye and telling her how they're going to help her die.

109. Gentle Hour, by Yo La Tengo. For Edward as he is biting Bella, especially for the lyric, "it's such a pleasure to touch your skin."

110. Love Like a Sunset Pt. 2, by Phoenix. For Edward and Bella seeing the presence as Edward is about to bite Bella. Also, it's kind of perfect that their love is like a sunset in this scene — he's taking her into his world of night.

111. Happiness, by Riceboy Sleeps. This instrumental is for Edward's bittersweet joy as he cradles Bella to his chest and runs with her to their cabin in the woods.

**You can hear all the songs on the playlist for free by going to  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**Huge thanks as ever to FantasyMother. Please drop by our thread on the Twilighted forum in the Alternate Universe section.  
www . twilighted . net/forum**


	32. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction. It is not being distributed for profit. Stephenie Meyer owns the copyright to the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Reminder: **This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

* * *

Epilogue

_**10 months later**_

BPOV

The air was still as I sat on the rock, watching the large flakes of snow softly drifting down around me. I held my hand out, noting how the snow didn't melt as it touched my skin. If I looked closely I could see the unique crystalline structure of each snowflake as it settled on my palm. Then a different glitter caught my eyes, and I glanced down at the antique diamond ring that graced my left hand. It had belonged to Edward's mother — one of the few keepsakes he still had. I felt honored to be wearing it, and wished she could know about us, and hoped that if she did, she would approve.

Movement caught my eye and I looked up to see Edward finishing off a deer, gazing at me with his mouth fixed to its throat, eyes smoldering with need and lust, primal and exhilarating, as I felt a surge of desire flash through my body. I was still getting used to this, the flood of emotions so powerful they could hardly be contained, my intellect fighting to keep control while my body responded as it had to, responded with a yearning to run to him now, crush him to me, take him as he takes me, right here in the snow. I closed my eyes for a moment, forcing myself to be in command of who I was, how I wanted to react. _"I will not let it rule me,"_ I chanted my practiced mantra, knowing with just a little more time Edward and I would be able to leave this forest and, with baby steps, walk once more in society.

But that kind of control had nothing to do with my desire for Edward. I tried to slow my breathing, and was so focused on my inner awareness I didn't realize Edward was standing in front of me until his luscious scent hit me, so much stronger than before I was changed. I opened my eyes and gazed into his, and in spite of feeding, his eyes were coal black, smoldering with lust. Overwhelmed, I could no longer control myself as I jumped into his arms, wrapping my legs around him as I sent us tumbling to the ground, into the snow, needing no body warmth to feel the heat threatening to burn us both.

Control be damned.

I crushed my lips to him, smooth and warm against mine. It was a difference I hadn't expected, and I loved it. No longer cold against me, Edward felt warm, lush, hot at times in a way I couldn't explain. His skin was just as smooth but it was softer under my fingers. It was a physical give and take that was both thrilling and insanely arousing.

I could not get enough of him.

Edward pulled back slowly, bringing us back to our feet, helping me control my urgent need by unbuttoning my shirt before I pulled too hard on it and destroyed it, and by slipping my jeans off without tearing them. I tried to follow his example, trembling with need all the while. I reached up and pulled his shirt over his head, and with shaking hands unbuttoned his jeans and lowered them to the ground. We both kicked our clothes out of the way, into the snow, far away from us. The wet snow wouldn't hurt them.

Edward turned his black eyes back to me as both of us returned to the moment, the raw lust, the passion that was like an electrical charge between us, drawing us back to the other without thought, without volition. Stepping up to him I reached my arms up and wound them around his neck, rubbing my naked body against his, feeling the uncontrollable rumbling in my chest harmonize with the purrs coming from his own. Softly rubbing against each other, feeling the fine hair on my body and the bronze hair on his rise with electricity, reaching out for the other as our movements became rougher, more frantic. Edward grabbed my hips, ground once against my pelvis and then threw us back onto the ground, into the snow, crushing my mouth to his, growling, frantic, as we rolled in the snow. Legs intertwined, bodies pressed together, hands soothing, feeling, touching, kneading while my lips ran down his neck, licking the muscles, tasting his scent, driving me upwards with unparalleled need as I wrapped my legs around his waist, pushed into him and whimpered.

"Now my love! Take me now!"

A snarl left his lips as he pulled his hips back, positioned himself and then drove forward, holding me tight, sliding us across the snow and ice as momentum flung us across the slick ground. Holding, grasping, whimpering, purring and growling the two of us loved each other, loved each other fully, gave and took our strength as we gave and took our souls, two lonely people reunited into one.

* * *

I stood at the open door, staring. My memory of her was surprisingly clear, considering it was a human memory and I had only seen her from a distance. Short dark hair, beautiful features, and petite. But what I never before noticed was her energy — it rolled off her in waves as she bounced on the balls of her feet. With a huge grin Alice shot forward and threw her arms around me, startling me, forcing me to use every ounce of control I'd developed not to react defensively. Hesitating at first, I finally allowed myself to return her embrace, and then gently pushed her away.

Her smile never faltered as she shot past me, running to her brother, leaving me to greet the tall blonde man who had just walked into view.

My memory of him wasn't nearly as clear, but I knew he was one of those who sat at their table at the Forks high school. Behind him, keeping their distance, were the other two from that table — a statuesque blonde woman and a dark-haired man so large and muscled I had to focus hard to keep myself from moving into a defensive crouch.

Carlisle and Esme had already arrived. The gathering of Edward's family was now complete, and I was self-conscious, embarrassed, uncharacteristically fidgety and more than anything else, scared to death.

And that's when I felt it.

A wave of calm rolled over me, as if a drug had just kicked in, and I couldn't help but relax into it. Taking a deep breath, I looked up at the blonde man still standing in the doorway, watching his face spread into a grin as he stuck out his hand.

"Finally," he said as his smile grew bigger. "I'm Jasper, and it is a pleasure to meet the woman who changed my brother's life." I took his hand, expecting him to shake it but instead he gave it a gentle squeeze and let it drop. We both just stood there, staring at each other. His eyes were soft and compassionate, and I felt myself relax even more as I remembered what Edward told me about Jasper's "talent." Grateful he chose to help me, I returned his smile and moved to the side, inviting him into our home. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as I feared. Then I turned back to the door, to the next couple waiting to approach.

Rosalie was a ravishing beauty, no question about it. But I was taken aback by the coldness in her eyes, the barely perceptible nod of her head as she squeezed past me and walked inside to join the others. I looked up at Emmett, who rolled his eyes at her before fixing me with a broad grin surrounded by adorable dimples.

"I'm Emmett, ignore Rose, and welcome to the family!" he exclaimed as he reached over and pulled me into a crushing embrace. For the first time since I was changed I staggered, overwhelmed by the strength of this large man. As quickly as he embraced me he let me go and bounced inside to pull Edward into a brotherly hug and then return to his wife's side.

Carefully, I closed the door, turned around, and faced the family reunion playing out before me. If my heart had been capable it would have been pounding out of my chest. If I could blush I'd be beet red. Instead I just stood there, feeling like a deer caught in headlights as seven pairs of golden eyes, one pair at a time, turned towards the door to fix themselves on one object. Me.

Another wave of calm hit me as Edward broke away from his family and walked over to me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me to his side. He stood with me, side by side, and with a breathtaking smile caught the eyes of every member of his family.

"Thank you all for coming today, and thank you all for being here to witness the happiest day of my life." He glanced over at Rosalie, and then looked away to the others. "And for those who haven't met her before today, this is Bella — my mate." His voice resonated with pride as he made the next announcement.

"And who has consented to become my wife today."

Six pairs of eyes were now smiling at me as Edward pulled me even tighter against him, dragging me into the center of the room towards his family. Slipping behind me, he wrapped his arms around my waist, comforting me as I leaned into his embrace. With Edward behind me, keeping me grounded, each family member, save one, walked over and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. And as each finished giving me this formal greeting they found a place to sit, couples sitting together with large smiles on their faces, all with the exception of Rosalie. She looked to the side — at anything or anyone other than Edward and me. Edward told me she had issues with my decision to change, and he also told me she had her own issues with what she was. I could appreciate her feelings, but there was nothing I could do about them. Maybe someday Rosalie and I would come to an understanding, but it would not be today. So rather than let her attitude destroy this wonderful day, I did the only thing I could. I ignored it.

The last Cullen to approach me was Alice. She danced over to kiss my cheek and then pulled me into another huge embrace. Then she grabbed both my hand and Edward's and pulled us to a corner of the living room. She pushed us down into a loveseat while she took a chair facing us. Jasper wandered over and stood behind the chair, his hand on her shoulder.

Now I knew what Edward was talking about when he referred to her as a _"pushy little pixie."_

Alice gave Carlisle and Esme a knowing look, and then turned back to the two of us.

"It's time," she declared, her voice high pitched yet overlaid with musical tones. I gave her a puzzled look, and then glanced at Edward who looked as confused as I was. Then I saw understanding light up his face as he glanced over at the couple who had functioned as both his adoptive parents and best friends all those long decades. He looked back to me, wrapped his arm around my shoulders and returned his eyes to Alice.

"I want to know it all Alice, _we_ need to know. At the very least, we want to know all _you_ know." He voice carried a hint of tension that startled me, laced with an undertone of apprehension. I started to feel uneasy, wondering what she planned to reveal to us. The feeling grew when I looked over at Alice and noticed Jasper gently squeezed her shoulder, nodded at me and gave her some kind of signal.

"Bella, I'm sure that by now Edward has told you I am capable of seeing future events." I nodded, and she continued. "I also hope he told you it's not foolproof, it's subjective based on the decisions of the parties I see. If you change your mind, the future shifts, not unlike catching a moving target."

I nodded my head again, understanding what she was trying to explain. "Go on," I encouraged her.

She took a deep breath and lowered her eyes to her lap. Jasper gave her shoulder another gentle squeeze, and she glanced up at him gratefully before she returned her eyes to her lap. I took a moment to look around the room, and saw everyone's eyes riveted on her. All except Rosalie of course, who took great pains to appear bored.

"It was more than 7 years ago," Alice peeked nervously at Edward, and then dropped her eyes. "I had a vision of a dark-haired, dark-eyed girl, but no context in which to place her — just her face and a sense her future would intertwine with ours." Alice looked at me. "Bella, it was about a week before you moved to Forks."

I felt . . . odd. Violated was a word that came to mind, but I knew that wasn't fair. I suddenly realized how others might feel, exposed to Edward's ability to read their minds, and thanked whatever quirk made me immune.

"When I saw you in the cafeteria in Forks I recognized you, but I still didn't know how you might be a part of our lives, so I just stayed quiet. When Edward ran out of the school in the middle of the day I didn't know why he did it. It wasn't until that night that he told us he'd met his singer and needed to leave Forks immediately." Alice reached to her shoulder and covered Jasper's hand with her own. "That's when I had the second vision."

I could feel tension starting to roll off Edward. Leaning over and kissing his cheek softly, I whispered, "Let her explain, okay? She's your sister, and from everything you've told me, she would never do anything to hurt you." I snuggled into his arm, and felt him drop a kiss on the top of my head. He was still tense, but more in control of himself.

Alice looked at both of us, pain evident in her eyes. "It wasn't really a vision Edward, it was like nothing I've seen before. What I saw was a presence so powerful I couldn't see it clearly but, in my vision, it was looking at me." Edward started with this news, but I wasn't as clear as to why it was so unusual. "For the first time, I wasn't the observer," Alice explained. "Instead, I was the target of a message. It . . . it pulsed at me, and it told me, in no uncertain terms, that I was to stay out of its affairs."

"_Its affairs?"_ Edward asked, his brow furrowed as he tried to puzzle out the meaning of those two words. I looked up and around the room. All eyes were trained on Alice — and this time, even Rosalie looked interested.

"I didn't know what that meant, Edward. All I knew was I'd never experienced anything like it before, had no idea what this _thing_ was, and you had already left Forks." Alice gave a dainty shrug. "Staying quiet seemed like a good idea at the time."

As soon as Alice said the word "thing" I felt as if she'd hit upon a mental trigger as human memories started to cascade into my new mind. The thing at the gorge, the thing in my bedroom with Edward, the thing in Edward's bedroom the day he changed me. Startled, I looked over at Edward.

"I've seen it," I whispered. "So has Edward." Edward turned to face me, looking as shocked as I was, and then we both turned back to Alice, sitting there, eyes still downcast.

"Yeah, well . . . I'm not surprised." She gave a small shudder, and then continued.

"After we left Forks I'd still have occasional visions of Bella, but at first it was the same, an image and nothing else. That started to change after the first couple of years. I'd see the two of you . . . er . . . together, but it made no sense." Alice gave us an apologetic look. "It seemed as if I was seeing into the short term-future, but I knew you weren't nearby, and I believed Edward's . . . _desires_ . . . didn't include sexuality." I felt Edward stiffen next to me, and my heart went out to him. My poor love was at least as embarrassed as I was, if not more so.

"Anyway . . ." she let out a puff of air, "this went on for years, always bits and pieces of the two of you, and it made no sense at all. You weren't here, Edward wasn't with you, but it didn't stop. I mentioned it to Carlisle and Esme, who agreed I should keep it to myself. The only other person I told was Jasper," she looked up at her husband, "because he had been feeling explosively conflicting emotions from Edward for years. With the message I had received, I thought it would be a good idea if he kept quiet too."

Edward took a deep breath and lowered his head, and I reached over and rubbed his back, trying to soothe him. I knew how painful that period had been for him — maybe more for him than for me. I thought he was simply a product of my imagination, whereas he knew I was real.

Edward raised his head, gave me a quick kiss and then looked at his sister's bowed head. "What did you see on the day you collapsed at Binghamton high school?"

She still refused to look at him. "As we were getting into the car that day I was hit with a vision of you and Bella and . . . Bella was one of us, then she wasn't, then . . ." Alice glanced at me before continuing, "then she was _dead_, and then she wasn't. It was rapid fire, scene after scene, completely disorienting, and then it suddenly stopped."

"That was the first day I saw her," Edward whispered. "That was the first time I saw Bella since Forks."

"Yes," Alice spoke quietly. "I've learned since . . . but that's not all I saw." She took a deep breath.

"The vision stopped because that . . . _thing_ was there again, and it seemed like more than a simple request this time. It was demanding, emphatic, almost like the two of you _belonged_ to it . . . that's not the right word. More like its charges, or its children." Alice shuddered and Jasper now had both hands on her shoulders, massaging gently, trying to ease the memories of her pain.

"Edward, I'm sorry. It's like nothing I've ever seen before, or felt before. I didn't know what it was capable of doing, and so my only choice was to do what it asked — stay out of its affairs. Again, I told Carlisle and Esme and, of course, Jasper, but I didn't tell them what I saw before it interrupted my vision. I just passed along the warning to stay as far away as possible from whatever was going on with you." She raised her head, eyes pleading for Edward to forgive her. "I had no choice . . . please believe that. Its warning was just so powerful, so_ authoritative_, that it stunned me. I was on the ground before I knew what happened."

I couldn't just sit and watch Alice suffer any longer. I ran over and I dropped to my knees in front of her, throwing my arms around her and pulling her into a real embrace. From everything Edward told me Alice always used her gift to help protect the family. The pain of being forced to remain quiet, and for so long, must have been devastating. Alice grabbed me with surprising strength, and I could feel her remorse in her embrace.

I slowly pulled away and looked back over at Edward. He was staring at the two of us, wide-eyed but calm. Holding out his hand for me, he gestured for me to return. I sat down next to him and moved back into his warm embrace. Glancing around the room, I noticed Emmett looked stunned. Rosalie had returned to bored.

Edward stared into space, rubbing his chin, and then leaned forward. "There have also been some other . . . anomalies." I nodded my head emphatically, encouraging him to continue.

"For years, Bella and I were connected through her dreams, and through my own . . . fantasies about her." Edward shifted uncomfortably, but I knew it was the time for the truth, all of it. "It wasn't until Bella was diagnosed with her illness that we put two and two together, and learned that my fantasies about her were infiltrating her dreams." He stopped for a moment, trying to formulate his thoughts.

"But it was a two way street, because Bella was able to connect to _me_ through her dreams while I was hunting."

I nodded in agreement and added, "I was actually inside Edward's mind during the hunt, in my dreams, and it started the day I moved to Forks, before I even saw him at the school. And from what Edward's told me, he was able to feel my presence, but didn't know what it was." I looked around the room, and almost laughed when I saw 6 pairs of shocked eyes — Rosalie no longer looked bored.

Edward continued, "And what was most puzzling of all . . ." his voice got low, as if he was almost afraid to say it. "What was most puzzling was how we were able to establish this kind of connection when I can't do something as simple as read Bella's mind."

The room was filled with stunned silence.

I filled the lull in the conversation by continuing our explanation. "For a long time, I thought something was wrong with me. In fact, when I got my AVM diagnosis, I thought my condition was the reason I had been able to connect with Edward in my dreams. And I also wondered if it was related to him not being able to hear my mind, because my brain was so different than everyone else's."

Carlisle, who had been listening calmly to what we were saying, leaned forward in his seat and interjected, "The brain is by far the most mysterious organ in the human body. We know so little about it compared to other organs. Your theory doesn't sound altogether implausible, Bella."

Edward glanced over at me, and I nodded for him to tell them more.

"Bella's condition was certainly rare and it made her brain unique, but I don't think her AVM can explain everything that happened between us — or maybe any of it," he said.

Carlisle looked intrigued as Edward said, "Some physical objects were being transferred during our fantasies and dreams. A button from my shirt, a scarf . . ." Edward chose to omit what I had revealed to him about the blood and the impressions on my bed, or our scents being transferred to the other. I looked at him, and thanked him with my eyes.

Each person seemed lost in his or her own thoughts as the truth of what went on those six years was revealed. Then, one by one, I watched each person turn around until everyone was staring at Carlisle, the patriarch — the one among them who had lived this existence the longest, and who seemed completely lost in thought. Slowly, he gathered himself together and looked from Alice, to Edward, and then finally to me.

"The three of you have seen the powerful force, am I correct?" I was about to answer Carlisle's question when I heard a gasp from Edward. Turning to face him, his eyes were wide, his mouth was open. He turned to me with a huge smile.

"_It_ did it." Edward said emphatically.

I looked at him, not understanding what he was referring to.

"Bella, remember the time it came to me and forced me to feel how upset you were?" The others looked puzzled but he ignored them. "It channeled your emotional state directly to me. It didn't just tell me you were upset, I was experiencing it _with_ you."

He grabbed my shoulders, his eyes intense as he gazed at me, a look of wonder on his face. "I think it was responsible for the entire connection, from the very beginning. Every aspect of it, everything that's made no sense to us — all of it created and maybe even manipulated by it. My fantasies, your dreams within them, the transfer of physical objects . . ." he trailed off, returning to his thoughts.

"But why?" I whispered to him. "Not that I'm complaining, but why us?"

"Destiny." It was Carlisle's voice, surprising us all, a small grin on his face.

"It makes sense." He turned to face us, leaned forward and clasped his hands in front of him. "Whatever it was established a paranormal connection between the two of you, and it warned Alice — the only one who might have seen what was happening — to stay out of it. From everything Edward just said it looks as if you both were nudged in this direction for years." He smiled at us. "And I'm willing to conjecture there were even more incidents than you have revealed."

I dipped my head, somewhat embarrassed, but Edward drew me to him and placed a soft kiss on my temple. He looked back to his father.

"Carlisle, what do you think might have happened had Alice ignored the warnings, or if either Bella or I didn't proceed in the direction it set forth?"

Carlisle looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'm not sure you or Bella really had a chance of falling off this path. From what you've told me, any time things didn't go the way they were supposed to, it stepped in and personally corrected it — even revealing itself to you when necessary.

"If Alice had ignored its warning?" He shook his head. "I don't know what the consequences may have been, and I'd rather not think about it."

As I listened to Edward's theories, and Carlisle's conjectures, I knew I was hearing the truth. It was a key slipped into a lock, a final puzzle piece snapped into place. It felt so right it was almost a physical reaction to their words. I grabbed Edward's hand, and turned to his father.

"Carlisle, what do you think it is and, again . . . why us?"

"Bella, I honestly don't know what it is, except it's powerful beyond our understanding, and seemed quite intent to get the both of you to this time and place." He stopped a moment, and then continued."

"Why the two of you? It could have been something as simple as offering you both this extraordinary happiness. It also could be something as simple as, this was the only way it could keep you, Bella, from dying from your AVM."

He frowned. "Maybe it was repairing a universal breach. I honestly don't know, nor do I know if it's finished with you."

"Destiny." Edward repeated the word Carlisle had said earlier. "What if Destiny was a more than a concept? What if it was a conscious entity?" He pulled me closer to him, as if he was trying to protect me from something we both knew was impossible to fight.

The room fell silent once again, each of us caught in our own thoughts, all knowing we could speculate all night yet still not find any concrete answers.

I looked out the window at the setting sun, realizing how long we'd been talking, and how late it was. As if she could read my mind, Alice stood up and bounced over to me, holding her hand out.

"Enough philosophical talk, it's time to get this show on the road." I looked up at her, and then over to Edward — who in spite of all the drama of the afternoon managed to give me one of his breathtaking smiles. He leaned into to me, whispering in my ear while giving my earlobe a lick with his tongue.

"Go with her, my Bella, soon to be my wife."

I gave Edward a quick kiss on the lips and stood. I grabbed Alice's hand, snatched Esme as I walked by, and led the two of them to our bedroom to help me get dressed.

It was an understated dress of white, eyelet lace — sleeveless with a dropped bodice, flowing gracefully to the floor. It wasn't formal. It was instead elegant in its simplicity. It spoke of sunshine in a meadow full of wildflowers. It was a dress I could run in, in that meadow. It was a dress I'd lay in, flowers around me, lover at my side, and watch the clouds move by. It was a dress I'd go barefoot in, and indeed, I planned to get married with no shoes on my feet.

The dress was a gift from Esme. The bouquet of wild orchids held in my trembling hands came from Alice, who had hidden it away until this moment. I stood just outside the living room entryway, knowing only a couple of steps would take me to the man who would, this day, become my husband as well as my mate.

Taking a deep breath I took those steps, into the room where Edward waited for me. Carlisle stood with him, officiating. I knew the other family members were there, witnessing. But I couldn't see anything or anyone else. Just Edward. My lover for seven years in dreams and real life.

He'd dressed as I'd asked, wearing a loose, white linen shirt and ivory pleated pants. Like me, his feet were bare. As I walked towards him I was stunned by the beauty of his face, of his body — but more than anything, by the beauty of his soul shining through the love in his eyes.

Our bond as mates had needed no declaration — it simply was. Edward and I were two pieces of the same soul and no words ever uttered could suffice to encapsulate everything that meant. Today we would give our vows in front of friends and family, and our bond as husband and wife would be added to the threads that tied us to each other.

"Love," he whispered, holding his hand out for me as I walked to his side. Grabbing his hand and turning it over, I kissed his palm. He cupped my cheek, and bent down for a gentle kiss.

There was nothing for Carlisle to say, for nothing needed be said. I turned to Edward and, taking the ring I was clutching, took his hand from my cheek and slipped the ring onto his finger.

"My husband . . ." I whispered.

"My bounty is as boundless as the sea,  
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,  
The more I have for both are infinite." *

I kissed the ring, and then reached up and kissed his lips. Smiling, Edward dug deep into his pocket, and pulling out a wedding band that matched my engagement ring, gently took my left hand and slipped it on, nestling it next to the diamonds and filigreed gold. He kissed my rings, and then turned his beautiful eyes to me. Taking a deep breath he reached out and stroked my cheek.

"My wife . . ." he sighed.

"Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks  
Within his bending sickle's compass come;  
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
But bears it out even to the edge of doom." **

The End

* Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare  
** Sonnet 116 by William Shakespeare

**A/N:**

**And so we come to the end, and they lived happily ever after. Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story and made our first attempt at fan fiction such a terrific experience.**

**And, for the last time:  
Final-round voting for the Indie TwiFic Awards is open now and is scheduled to run through Wednesday, July 29. Perchance to Dream is a finalist for the Best Collaboration award. To vote, please visit  
**www . theindietwificawards . com/voteround2 . aspx** Thanks!**

**My biggest thanks to FantasyMother, who was a dream of a writing partner.**

**At the present time, Fantasy Mother and I do not plan on writing a sequel. However, each of us does plan to keep writing fan fiction, so if you'd like to see what we produce next, you may want to put us on author alert so this site will send you an email when either of us publishes something new.**

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**Songs for the Epilogue **

112. Feeling Good, by My Brightest Diamond. This cover of the classic Nina Simone song is for Bella, because of the lyrics, "it's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me, and I'm feeling good."

113. Cabin in the Woods, by The Be Good Tanyas. For Edward and Bella who've spent the past 10 months in honeymoon bliss in their cabin in the woods.

114. I'm New (Thru-You Track 3), by Kutiman. For the title lyrics, because Bella is new to her life as a vampire. If you haven't heard of Kutiman's Thru-You, check it out at www . thru-you . com This genius project made new music by mixing random youtube clips together. It's fascinating.

115. Half Acre, by Hem. For Bella, who has made the right choice and is so happy with Edward, even though she still carries some sadness with her, because of the lyrics, "I can crack the darkest sky wide open, every burden taken from me, every night my heart unfolding . . . my heart."

116. Time in a Bottle, by Jim Croce. For Edward, at the request of FantasyMother, with whom it has been my great privilege to work on this story.

**You can hear all the songs on the playlist for free by going to  
www . playlist . com/playlist/16715134219**

**If you want to talk about PTD, please drop by our thread on the Twilighted forum in the Alternate Universe section.  
www . twilighted . net/forum**


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